Two Cops, Two Writers, Four Victims
by eweknow
Summary: When a murder reveals four total bodies, each in various states of decomp, Castle and Beckett must call in specialized backup.  Booth and Bones come to New York to lend their expertise.  Can the parallel duos help push each set of partners together too?
1. The Morning

**Author's Note:** Castle and Beckett and Bones and Booth. Two matches made in heaven, neither actually a couple yet. For you first-time readers, I don't intend this story to be short, so stick with it to get to the fluff. The story starts a couple of episodes before the shows' respective season finales.

Bones belongs to Fox, Castle belongs to ABC, and this is my version of the cross-network crossover that will never be.

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><p>Homicide Detective Kate Beckett was about to slip into the shower when her phone rang. She wished she could just slide under the water and let it go to voicemail, but she had offered to be on call this weekend.<p>

"At least I was already awake," she mumbled to herself before crossing to the vanity where she had set her phone moments before. "Beckett," she answered, her voice becoming that of the clear, straight NYPD detective that she knew she had to be.

By the time she hit "end" and set the phone back down, her shoulders had tensed, her back straightened, and her eyes had darkened with anger. Murder angered her. That's what the call was always about for her, and each time she hung up with the captain or dispatch, this is how she felt. She puffed out air with exasperation, knowing that the scalding shower she had been looking forward to wouldn't soothe her now. The heat from the water would only fuel the fire that had already ignited.

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><p>Richard Castle, on the other hand, was fast asleep when his phone rang. He lay sprawled, face-down on his bed where he had landed only a couple of hours before. His face still buried in the pillows, he threw his arm out in the direction of his bedside table. When his fingers finally felt the plastic covered rectangle, he rolled his body over and attempted to form a "hello" after his finger accepted the call.<p>

When the phone hit the bed several seconds later, he finally opened his eyes and raised his head off the pillow. Taking in his own, fully-clothed and spread eagle form on top of the bed sheets, he mumbled, "At least I made it into the bedroom this time." He vaguely remembered Alexis waking him in his office and pulling him away from the desk. He'd spent too many nights asleep in his desk chair recently. He couldn't adjust to the cop hours that his friends at the NYPD seemed to be used to. Late to bed, early to rise. Day after day and it barely showed on their faces. After a late night out at the Old Haunt with Ryan and Esposito, he'd hoped to get some more work done on the next Nikki Heat novel—and had dozed off shortly after booting up his laptop. Maybe someday he'd figure out how to be a cop and a novelist.

"One step at a time, Rick," he said, trying to encourage himself to get out of bed, out of yesterday's outfit, and into the shower. He rolled himself to the edge of the bed, still very groggy.

If the impact with the floor didn't wake him up, the rather loud thud of his body hitting hard wood certainly would have. He groaned and started to drag himself towards the bronze tiles of the bathroom floor.

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><p>Dr. Temperance Brennan was already turning the key in her office door when she spotted the envelope sticking out of the crack. She finished opening the door and deftly caught the envelope as it began to fall to the floor. She smiled to herself when she saw the writing on the front. She unloaded her things onto the small couch and coffee table across from her desk. She hung her coat over her desk chair and sat to open the manila envelope. Before she got a chance, her phone chimed that she had a new text message. Knowing it could only be one person this early in the morning, she set the envelope down and crossed to her bag to retrieve her phone.<p>

After reading the short message, she slid the phone back into her bag, gathered her things, and headed back out the door. Locking it behind her, she glimpsed the manila envelope on her desk and set a mental reminder to open it as soon as she got back.

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><p>Special Agent Seeley Booth knew he wouldn't get a text message back, but he didn't need one. He had been up early for a run, then had been able to shower and get dressed before most of the east coast was even aware it was a new day. As he finished the dregs of his mug of coffee, he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. He was up and waiting at the door when it opened, helping his still sleepy son Parker back into his bedroom to get dressed.<p>

Booth had always been glad his son could be up early without complaining. Mornings like this were especially important. The sooner Parker was awake, the longer Booth had with him. He pulled his sons shoes out from under the bed and set them in easy reach. "Hungry?" he asked.

His son simply nodded and yawned, but was fully dressed in a matter of minutes. Booth slipped on his own jacket and helped Parker tug the hoodie down over his curly blond head. Parker grabbed his backpack from next to the door as Booth took his keys from the hook and double checked he had his gun strapped into place and his badge secured on his belt. They went out the door together and Booth started his SUV. He looked over at his son and smiled as they drove away.


	2. Four Bags, Four Bodies?

Beckett was crouching next to a dumpster when Castle came on the scene. He gave the cabbie a generous tip and juggled the two coffee cups as he ducked under the yellow tape. He stopped before he reached her and surveyed the area. There was a body bag, fully zipped up, on a gurney several feet away. Two crime scene photographers were busy getting shots of both the inside and outside of the dumpster. Castle's interest was piqued by the sheer volume of photographs being taken. The scene was also still bustling with techs and detectives. Usually, moving the body was one of the last things done. He wondered why there was still so much activity.

Several people nodded to him in greeting. He was familiar with many of them, but their stoicism was unusual. The easy banter that commonly occurred at New York City crime scenes was missing. Beckett, too, was quiet. She extended her one ungloved hand toward him without even looking up. He placed her coffee cup into it and then stepped back as she rose up to her full height.

"Morning, Castle."

"Good morning, Detective. What happened here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She jerked her head toward the gurney that was now being rolled to the medical examiner's van. "Murder. Found a woman half stuffed into a garbage bag. Guy who found her works here." She pointed to the building the dumpster was clearly meant to service. "Called 911."

"Okay, that's the usual. But what's unusual? Something is odd here. Everybody is quiet and there is an awful lot of pictures being taken."

"You could have been here for the reveal. What took you so long to get here?"

"I had a rough time getting out of bed this morning," he replied. He didn't mention the ache in his shoulder from his rendezvous with the floor.

She shrugged off his excuse. "Emergency crews got here, found the body in the dumpster like the caller had said. Then they saw something else. There was a bone protruding from another bag."

"There's a lot of restaurants around here," he replied. "Could be from any one of them."

"Well, maybe. But when the crews moved the bag it was coming out of a little bit, they saw something that was definitely not from a t-bone. Have a look." Beckett pointed at the dumpster the photographers were both hovering around for more shots.

Castle leaned carefully over the edge, trying not to come in contact with anything. He quickly puffed out a breath to avoid the smell and looked inside. His eyes widened and he stepped back. "Ah," he said. "Definitely not a t-bone."

"Yeah," she agreed. "So we have Jane Doe, who looks like she was strangled and stabbed. And we have another victim as well. The skull is so clean, though, that we won't know what happened for a while."

Castle and Beckett stepped back and let the techs take over the scene. Kate stepped over to the guy who had called 911 to ask him a couple of more questions and then tell him he could go home. Rick leaned against a brick wall and just watched everything happen. He took a sip of his coffee every once in a while, feeling it cooling with each passing minute. Since there wasn't much going on in the dumpster, he mostly watched Kate. She was leaning with her back against someone's patrol car, the 911-caller doing the same next to her. Her coffee cup made a trip up to her lips now and again, and she kept tucking the same piece of hair behind her ear only to have it fall in front of her eye again. She had a soft smile on her face, holding friendly conversation with the man to make him feel a little better about having found a dead body. When the sun got in his eyes, Rick unclipped the sunglasses from his shirt and slipped them on so he could see her again. He watched as Kate slid a hand into her jacket and pulled out a card. She set her coffee cup down on top of the patrol car and quickly wrote something on the back of the card before handing it to the man. She patted his shoulder and told him he could go. She put her own sunglasses over her eyes as she collected her coffee and headed back to where Rick waited. He busied himself with his coffee and glanced over at the dumpster to see a black garbage bag was being carefully lifted out and set on a separate gurney.

"Body number two?"

He nodded. "Looks like. Are we all set here?"

"Yeah, I think so. This one's going to be a lot of paperwork."

"Damn," he said. "And it's turning out to be such a nice day."

They turned simultaneously and walked toward Beckett's cruiser. Castle had just lifted up the yellow tape for Beckett to duck underneath when they heard the tech yell, "Detective Beckett! We need you over here!" There was a tone to his voice that was usually void from a crime scene tech's voice—fear. Castle and Beckett both picked up on it and Rick followed Kate back to the dumpster at a jog.

Someone had set a stepstool at the base of the dumpster and Kate immediately jumped onto it. Rick peered over the edge as best he could. What he saw made him glad he hadn't had time for breakfast.

"There's two more," Kate said. Two skulls were visible in separate trash bags the techs had sliced open to check out. She could smell and see that these were not nearly as fully decomposed as the other. She pulled her arm up to her face and put her nose on her sleeve to keep the smell from making her gag reflex activate. "God. What the hell happened here?" she asked. She stepped down from the stool and backed away.

A tech stepped forward from where the medical examiner's van was parked. "That's not all, either," he said. The fully decomposed skeleton is not complete. There is a lot missing. The medical examiner doesn't think that the other bags could hold entire bodies either."

Beckett knew exactly what the tech was trying to say. She looked at Castle.

He nodded. "So either there are more body parts in separate bags or…"

"The rest isn't here, and the case is going to be a lot harder to solve," Beckett finished for him.


	3. Breakfast

Brennan sat gracefully down in the chair across from her partner and his son. Parker was already halfway finished with his glass of chocolate milk and Booth held his empty coffee mug out to the waitress who had just come over with a mug for his partner. She filled both and went to set the coffee pot down so she could take their order.

"Bones, I got an A- on my science test yesterday!" Parker exclaimed.

"That's very good, Parker. Is your class still studying volcanoes?"

"No, we're on the atmosphere now. I have to do a report on the ozone layer."

"Which he hasn't started yet," Booth interjected, with a disapproving glance at his son.

The waitress made her way back to the table and took the pen from behind her ear. Booth ordered pancakes, Parker ordered Belgian waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, and Brennan got a spinach and tomato omelet. "So, the usual?" the waitress asked.

Booth nodded and plastered his charm smile on his face. "Thanks, Brenda."

"Do we really get the same thing every time?" Brennan leaned into Booth as she whispered.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan," replied the waitress. "Another chocolate milk, Parker?"

"Yes please," the boy answered. He pulled his Nintendo DS out of hs backpack and began to play.

Knowing Parker would be occupied for some time, Brennan swiveled her body in the chair so she was angled more towards Booth. "When do you have to meet Rebecca?"

"Nine o'clock over in the park. But he kept asking about you last night and I wanted to make sure he got to see you this week. He was so happy about his test."

"Maybe he'll turn out to be a scientist like me."

"My boy? Oh no, I'm grooming him to be a special agent like me."

"So you intend him to go into the army?"

"What? No. Not at all."

"That's what you did to become a special agent, so I just followed your previous record."

Booth sighed. Trust Brennan to think he meant Parker to literally follow his footsteps. "You know what, Bones? He can be whatever he wants to be."

Brennan smiled at Booth and took a sip of coffee.

"But he's going to be a special agent," Booth said quickly, getting in the last word.

Brennan expelled her breath in a huff and rolled her eyes. If he wanted to have the last word, that was fine. She was content to look at him over the rim of her mug. It seemed he was content to simply look back at her.

They were taken out of their reverie by the arrival of their breakfast. Booth told Parker to turn off and put away his video game. Soon they were all talking about the atmosphere with their mouths full. Booth deftly snuck his fork into a bite of Brennan's omelet. At her exclamation, he became the picture of innocence. "Payback for all the fries," he told her. He always said the same thing.

As they walked out the door, Parker wrapped himself around Brennan in a big hug. "Thanks for coming to breakfast, Bones," he said.

"You're welcome, Parker. I'll see you soon," she told the boy. She switched her attention to his father. "I'll be at the lab all day if you need me."

"Bones, it's a Saturday."

"I have some things to do, and one very important package to open. See you later."

"Bye, Bones."

They all waved as they walked away from the Royal Diner. Brennan headed back to the lab, eager to open the envelope on her desk. Booth snatched his son off of the concrete and carried him bodily toward the car. Booth and Brennan both smiled widely at the gleeful laughter that erupted from the boy, looking back at each other one last time before Brennan turned a corner and went out of sight.


	4. One at a Time

Beckett and Castle were both dragging their feet several hours later when they arrived at the station. A methodical and detailed search of all the other garbage bags in the dumpster turned up nothing. There were no more pieces than were contained in the four bags.

"Four murders on a day like this? That's not fair," Castle complained. "It's the weekend."

"We only know that one of them is murder, Castle," Beckett corrected. "Let's be thankful we only have to deal with the one for now. When we find out more about the other three bodies, then we can feel overwhelmed."

"While it's true that the other three bodies could have come from somewhere else, I'm betting my money on all four being murders. As much as a body exhuming homicidal maniac would be interesting, it's rather unlikely."

"True. But let's take this case one body at a time. Right now, that's our female victim who was on top of the others."

"Well, assuming there is one killer and body-dumper here, he's already contradicted himself."

"What? How?"

Castle settled against the edge of Beckett's desk, facing the sparse murder board. "He was in a hurry, obviously. Anybody else would have dumped the woman first, then put the other bags on top of her to cover. Why would he make her so visible on purpose? But the fact that he's dumping older bodies means that he's kept them for some time. It's like our frozen victim from a couple of years ago. He obviously couldn't let go of the bodies for some time, but when he did, he just tossed them in a dumpster. He's attached enough to keep the bodies, but they are only trash to him? Contradiction."

Beckett sidled up next to him. "But in the freezer case, she was dumped by someone completely unrelated to the murder. So this would be more than one person as well."

Castle and Beckett both sighed as they watched their weekend, and most likely the next two weeks, slip from their fingers. The sheer magnitude of a search for this killer was overwhelming.

"You know what?" Castle asked. Her head cocked to the side in question. "You're right. Let's take this one body at a time. Have we heard from the medical examiner yet about Jane Doe?"

"No, and this is Lanie's weekend off. She won't be back until Monday so I can't really expedite the process any. We're going to have to wait for the call."

"In that case, Detective, let's get some food. I'm starving." He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the stairs.

In ten minutes they were enjoying hot dogs on a park bench. They sat side by side, not talking and simply enjoying the day and each others' company. Every few minutes, Castle would see a gleam of light reflecting from Kate's brown hair or the ring she kept on the long chain around her neck and glance over at her. She pretended not to notice.

He broke the silence. "Have you ever had a case like this?"

"Once," she said. "Three badly decomposed bodies were found in an apartment building's storage room. We never solved the case. It took a lot of department resources to even figure out how they were killed. Identification was unlikely from the beginning. No fingerprints and the limited DNA testing we did turned up nothing."

"So somebody got away with murder. Could there be a connection to this case?"

Beckett shook her head. "It's not very likely. It wouldn't hurt to pull the old case file, though." She turned her head to look at him. "You could look over it. It would give you a good idea of our procedure for cases like this."

"I'm touched by your faith in me, Detective." Castle placed a hand over his heart.

"Faith in you?"

"I'll be happy to look over the case file and see if you missed anything."

She rolled her eyes. Crumpling the paper from the hot dog, she stood up. Using her height to her advantage, Kate looked down at Rick evenly. "The only thing that will be missing is my explanation of why a civilian was at a crime scene, had access to case information and medical examiner's files, was in an interrogation room with a suspect, and got in the crossfire of a shootout."

"Yes, I bet it will be a much more boring read." He looked up at her with his eyes twinkling and laughter in his smile.

"Then I guess I don't need to dig it out if you don't want to read it." She walked away briskly.

Castle fumbled to pick up his trash, then took off down the sidewalk in hot pursuit. "Oh, come on. I wouldn't miss reading one of your old case files for the world. A glimpse back in time at my muse." He looked wistfully to the sky. "Before she met me and her life was boring."

With another eye roll, she led the way back to the precinct. Maybe if she got the case file as soon as they got back she could keep Castle out of her hair for a little bit.

It didn't keep him busy for as long as she hoped. He'd had the thick case file for fifteen minutes when he came back from the break room and set it back down on her desk. He sat down and looked at her. "Why didn't you do facial reconstruction?"

She didn't move her eyes from the computer screen. "Wasn't in the budget, didn't have a specialist, and had several other investigations going on at the same time."

"Will you do them for this case?"

"Probably not, Castle. We just don't have the budget or the time it would take."

"What if I told you not to worry about either of those things?"

"I'd be skeptical. Why your sudden interest in this?" She finally looked over at him.

He was leaning towards her, his elbows resting on her desk. "I have a friend."

"A friend?"

"Well, a colleague."

"You are not letting any of your poker buddies anywhere near those remains. Especially not Patterson."

"Oh, it's way better than that."

His smile scared her.


	5. A New Chapter

**A/N: I'm really glad to get those story alert e-mails, but don't forget to review as well! Don't forget that you can review each chapter. I'd like to know what everybody who reads this is thinking. This chapter feels shorter, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!**

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><p>Temperance was back in her office in a matter of minutes. The forensics lab at the Jeffersonian was nice and quiet and that is how she liked it. Of course, her plans to open that manila envelope were seriously delayed by the six inch stack of new files that had been placed on top of it. Figuring it would be better to work from the top down, she opened the first folder and got to work.<p>

By early afternoon, the pile had been depleted and nothing new had been added to it. The lab had a little bit more hum to it now that some of the other scientists had arrived. Jack Hodgins had stopped in for a quick hello before continuing on to his work station. She knew his wife, Angela Montenegro, was at home in bed. That explained why he was working so quickly. Angela was being waited on hand and foot by Jack, as she was patiently waiting for the arrival of their first child. Brennan wished Camille Saroyan had stopped by so she could get rid of the files she had finished her work on, but knew that she was visiting a college with her daughter Michelle. She wouldn't be back in the lab until Monday.

All things considered, it had been a productive day. Feeling good about her diminished workload, Temperance grabbed the envelope from her desk and went over to lay on her couch. Propping her head up with pillows and her feet on the far arm of the couch, she undid the metal clasp, pulled back the flap and slid out the contents. A stack of papers were clipped together, with a smaller piece of note paper on top. She started there.

_Tempe-  
><em>_I really think you are going to enjoy this one. Don't worry, I didn't get as involved into the skeletal structure this time. I won't make that mistake again. Please read it and let me know what you think. Especially the scientific parts—you know how I like it when you correct me._

She smiled and pulled the note out of the paper clip and put it aside. There was no signature. There never was. But she didn't need one. She knew who had sent the package as soon as she had read her name on the envelope. If she hadn't, the handwritten note would have told her all she needed to know. She nestled her head in the pillows and began to read. Brennan was instantly pulled into the story that had been woven on the page. She snagged a pencil off her coffee table and started making notes to herself in the margins, but kept reading until she came to the last page. The cliffhanger ending had her feeling disappointed. But she also knew that was how he liked to keep her—in suspense. Pushing aside her selfish upset, she detailed several of the quick notes she had made on the margins. Then, Temperance settled back into the pillows and read the whole thing again. This time for herself and not to make scientific corrections.

It made her think of Booth for more than one reason. A handful of years ago that would have made her uncomfortable. Now she was quite accustomed to it. Booth was a cop, he was strong—both in body and heart—and he would never leave her alone. There were bits of both of them on the pages she was reading, and was glad she could see the parallels that she may not have at one time. She regretted the fact that she couldn't share the pages in her hand with Booth. She knew she couldn't share them with anyone. But she was content in having the friend who sent them.

As irrational as she knew it was, her phone rang as if she had summoned him. Still stretched out on the couch, she reached over to the coffee table and picked it up, gently pressing the answer button before pressing it to her ear. "Brennan."

"Have you read it yet?" The male voice was warmly familiar to her.

"Just finished the second time."

"What took you so long? I had it couriered over early."

"I had work."

"Of course. And?"

Temperance knew he was referring to what she thought of the story. "It's wonderful. I've made a few notes and I'll send it back to you tonight."

"Don't get too hasty, Tempe."

"You usually like it back quickly. Would you like me to do something else with it?"

"Yes. I want you to come with it. Tonight for dinner. Are you free?" There was a hint of innuendo in the way he spoke the sentences. Again she marveled at how not too long ago she wouldn't have been able to pick up the tone of his voice.

"For you? I can be free."

"Good, I'll have my plane waiting for you at Dulles at 5:00. You know the drill, right?"

"It's been a while, but I can manage. Let me make a couple of calls."

"Thanks, Tempe. I'll owe you one. Well, actually, I think I'll owe you several after you see what I have for you."

"I don't know what that means, Rick. I'll see you soon." She dropped the phone from her face and ended the call. Setting it back down on the table, she picked up the handwritten note from beside it. She traced the outline of the chess piece that was embossed into the paper and smiled before clipping the new chapter she had just read back together. She liked being at Richard Castle's beck and call.


	6. Tease

Castle smiled at his good fortune. He liked having the famed Temperance Brennan at his beck and call. They hadn't seen each other face to face for a couple of years now, but had always kept in contact. She was one of his many sources, though he considered her to be more valuable than any of the others. When you sit around thinking about how to kill people, it helps to make sure you get the way dead bodies look and behave correct. Tempe was always quick to correct his mistakes in that area.

Castle pulled out his phone to call the new "it" restaurant in SoHo and get a table for the night. Once that was done to his liking, he headed back out to the bullpen to work on the case.

Beckett, as usual, was not looking up when she said, "Where have you been, Castle?" Her ability to sense him coming never ceased to amaze him.

"I was just making a couple of phone calls. Anything new?" He sat in his chair and glanced toward the murder board.

"The ME called with some answers. Our Jane Doe was stabbed three times in the chest, but then was strangled. He said there were rope marks on her neck, not hand prints. He couldn't tell how soon after being stabbed she actually strangled to death, but he knows based on the wounds that she wasn't dead when they were made. Based on the location of them, she wouldn't have lasted long."

"So the killer couldn't wait a little bit for her to bleed out, he had to strangle her? That's interesting. Do we know who she is yet?" Castle asked as he searched his mind for any parallels or patterns in his experiences.

"No ID yet. They're running fingerprints and dentals now." She paused. "Maybe he couldn't stand to watch her suffer for that long?" Beckett pushed back from her desk and leaned into the back of her chair.

"After he caused the wounds by stabbing her? That doesn't make sense."

"Unless it was two people."

The case was looking more and more hopeless by the minute. Castle leaned forward. "What about the other bodies?"

"The ME barely knows what to make of them. He was just about to start processing them when he called me."

"Damn. Well, no worries. We'll have help with that part soon."

Beckett raised her eyebrows. "Were those the calls you were making? You better not be bringing in someone who will screw this up even worse than it already is."

"You doubt me, Detective? I'm hurt. Have I ever led you astray?"

She opened her mouth to unload the reel of Castle screw-ups that were playing in her mind.

Castle recognized the look and put his hands up defensively to stop her. "Never mind. Do not answer that. Just rest assured that this time I will be helping."

Beckett's face turned skeptical, but she decided to ease off.

"Is there anything else I can do or should I just head home?"

"Oh. Uh, no, I think you can head out Castle. Plans with Alexis or something?"

"Hot date at the Adrian in SoHo, actually." Rick watched as her face changed from disappointment to surprise to a little bit jealous in a matter of a couple seconds before it became the emotionless cop again. He loved watching her expressions. He considered himself lucky that he had so many opportunities to do so.

"Wow," Kate commented. "You really can get in anywhere, can't you?"

Castle watched as she turned a deep crimson in embarrassment at the innuendo in what she had just said and smiled broadly. "Don't worry, Beckett. I won't answer that question and embarrass you further." He stood and adjusted his jacket, then pointed down at her. "Remember how gracious I am being right now by not making a dirty comment. I'll be expecting a favor from you another time as payment."

Kate watched him walk away from her desk, the blush still bright on her cheeks. She let her hair fall over her face to cover it and tried to focus on her work. It was going to be difficult now that Castle had all but blatantly rubbed it in her face that he had a date. A hot date at a currently impossible to get into restaurant.

"Back to work," she muttered to herself. "That's an order."

A few hours later she was wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Home at last, she made herself a quick dinner and settled down to catch up on some of her favorite TV shows. The last thing she expected to see at 9:30 that night was a text from Castle. Smirking, she taunted the man from miles away. "Date didn't go so well, huh? That's what you get for rubbing it in my face." She opened the text message.

It read, _Meet me at the Old Haunt in half an hour?_

She looked down at her NYU sweatshirt and sighed. Now she had to get dressed. She tapped out a quick response and headed to the closet to pull on something more bar-appropriate. Something more I'm-meeting-Richard-Castle-for-drinks appropriate. Whatever that meant.


	7. A New Partner in Crime

**Author's Note: It kind of blows my mind that people from all over the world have read my little story here. Sorry for the delay on this new chapter. It was all written, but some family business kept it from going up on schedule. But my phone has kept reminding me of all of my readers by filling my messages with FF alerts and e-mails. I still would love some more reviews. I know how many people have read this, and I know you know how to type or you wouldn't be on this site. Don't make me start threatening you with no new chapters until I get a certain number of reviews. Now you may enjoy.**

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><p>Temperance juggled the envelope, her small travel bag, and her cell phone as she stepped off the plane in New York. "Booth, it's fine. I'll be back by tomorrow morning at the latest. No, it's not a conference. No, it's not a lecture. Why do you need to know? Okay, I'm meeting a friend. He asked me for a favor." She set her bag down and switched her cell phone to her right ear so she could look at the watch on her left wrist to see the time. "Yes, Booth, it's a man. Do we have a case? Then I'm not needed at the Jeffersonian for the rest of the weekend. I finished what was left on my desk from this past week." She sighed. "Yes, Booth, I will call you if anything happens. I promise. I don't know what that means. Goodbye, Booth." She ended the call and tried to gather her things again. As she bent to pick up her travel bag, a had reached into her line of sight and hefted it up off the concrete.<p>

"Doctor Temperance Brennan," a warm voice stated.

She looked up into a pair of blue-gray eyes. Straightening, she replied, "I'm glad you still remember my name, Rick."

"Like you let me forget you have 50 doctorates. I like Tempe better though." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You look wonderful."

"I don't have 50 doctorates, Rick."

"Be still, my beating heart. You've already begun correcting me. I have a feeling I'm in for a lot of that tonight. Come on." They walked side by side to the limousine waiting near the hangar door. "Was that your special agent on the phone?"

"It was Booth, yes. He worries about me, which is really not necessary. But he's alone tonight and I can't help but feel that he's a little jealous that I'm going out with you."

"Would you like me to call and reassure him?" Rick asked as soon as they were both seated and the car was moving.

"I think that would be a very bad idea. But I also think you know that and are trying to be funny."

"You know me so well, Tempe. In any case, we seem to be partners in crime. I believe I've made my partner a little jealous by going out with you too. Anyway, there's a new place in SoHo I've been dying to try and I thought it would be perfect."

"I hope I'm dressed appropriately," she replied.

Rick took a moment to take in the conservative, belted blue dress and heels she was wearing and nodded in approval. With the black pants and grey shirt he was wearing, they seemed to match perfectly. "As I said before, you look wonderful. The dress is definitely appropriate."

The conversation stayed comfortable and calm for the rest of the car ride and all through dinner. They had plenty to talk about. There were recent cases to share, book reviews, tour schedules, and other travel. Rick shared his experiences working with the various arms of the NYPD as well as how Alexis and Martha were doing. Temperance talked about her uneventful trip to the Maluku Islands and gave updates on her coworkers. It was well after 8:00 when they finally ordered dessert and coffee, having finished their meals and talking over empty plates for the last half hour.

As the server placed caramel cheesecake in front of him, Rick finally decided to breach the topic of his and Beckett's most recent case. "I have a favor to ask of you, Tempe."

"What is it?"

"Can you consult on a case I'm working on? Well, a case the NYPD is working on," he corrected himself.

"Why? What's the case?"

"We found four bodies in a dumpster this morning. One was very much recently murdered. The other three were—well, more decomposed. Two were rather messy and one was all bone."

"They were found together?" She took a sip of her coffee. "That's odd."

"I know. Beckett had a case like this a few years back but they never figured it out because they couldn't tell who the victims were. I thought that maybe you could help with identification."

"Rick, you know I work full-time with the Jeffersonian and as a liaison strictly to the FBI. My schedule isn't exactly open."

"Isn't there something I can bribe you with?" he asked, a pout forming on his lips. "How about a signed copy of Naked Heat?"

"I already have one of those and I'm not susceptible to bribes. But if you'd like, I can ask Booth if the FBI could consult."

"I don't think Beckett is going to like that," Rick replied. "She likes to run her cases alone. She doesn't even like other NYPD departments getting in the way, let alone the FBI."

"We could ask, though. If it works, he could request me as his personal liaison to the Jeffersonian. We tend to come in a pair."

"Do you think that will work?"

She smiled. "Yes, I do. I'd need to talk to your Detective Beckett though. If she makes the request, it will make it easier."

"The sooner the better?" he asked. She nodded. "Would you mind if we met her tonight? You know I only have eyes for you, Tempe, but this would help our case immensely."

"There had better be more than just eyes for me to look at. I'm a forensic anthropologist, not an ophthalmologist." At the broad smile that crossed his lips, she said, "That was a figure of speech, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Rick loved it when she did that. "I'll see if Beckett can meet us at the Old Haunt."

After getting an affirmative response from Beckett, Rick signaled for the check. Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the bar.


	8. Missing

Booth was stressed out. He changed channels on his TV at random, not paying attention, and talking to himself.

"Brennan doesn't just leave the city without letting me know."

He stopped pressing the channel up button and rolled his eyes. "Who am I kidding? That's exactly what she does. At least this time she is only in New York, not some third world country or tropic island on the other side of the world. If she needs me, I could get there."

His phone buzzed as if on cue. He reached over and clicked on the screen. He smiled as soon as he saw the skull next the the text message. "I'll be staying the night in New York, Booth. And yes, I'm fine. See you on Monday."

"Alright, points for the update," he said to the phone.

"But what guy is it that has Temperance Brennan at his beck and call? She doesn't drop work for a guy. I can barely get her out of the lab for a drink."

Booth begrudgingly got changed into sweatpants and an old FBI t-shirt. He dropped onto the couch, beer in hand. He thought about Parker for a little bit. They had a good morning together. After they left the diner, he took his son to a nearby park. In a very cliche move, they wasted away a couple of hours playing catch. Parker was learning how to throw a curve ball, having already mastered the perfect football spiral. But, as usual, thoughts of Bones kept creeping in. The smile she had given him before she turned that corner had made him weak at the knees. Between the sound of his child's laughter and that smile he had been almost perfectly happy in that moment. The only thing that could have made it better was if she had been walking with them instead of back to the lab. She was always headed back to the lab.

"And now she's headed to the arms of another man. Face it, Seeley," he said. "You missed your chance. There's someone else out there for you." He leaned back into the pillows and tried to concentrate on hockey.

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, I know it was short. Don't kill me. I've got the next chapter written already, but I thought we should check back in with our favorite special agent-emotional, lonely Booth. Don't worry, he'll join the party sometime soon.**

**Read, review, tell all your friends! Thanks for the reviews from last chapter! I feel I should let you know that my holding back chapters statement was a very empty threat. Even one of those story alert e-mails is enough to make my story feel loved.**


	9. Third Wheel

Beckett tipped the cab driver generously, having gotten her to the bar faster than she anticipated. She figured now she had at least beat Castle to the Old Haunt and could finally get a table instead of sitting at the rail. Castle always wanted to sit at the bar, since he liked being able to monitor the bartenders. Beckett liked to be able to lean back into a chair instead of perching on a barstool. After the stress of today, her back could use the rest.

When she spotted him, her eyes automatically rolled to the ceiling and she sighed. He was already leaned up against the rail, the top two buttons of his gray shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up on his forearm. She made her way through the Saturday night crowd and approached him. "How did you beat me here? You said half an hour!"

He turned from the rail with two drinks in his hand. "Beckett? You're early! Do you want a drink?"

She eyed the two rocks glasses in his hands and said, "Are either of those for me?"

He, too, glanced at the drinks in his hand. "No, actually. We've been here for about a half hour and this is our second round."

Kate quickly glanced around the bar and spotted the only female sitting alone in the place. She turned back to him, her eyes glaring. "You brought me out here while you are still on a date? Castle, I do not want to be a third wheel tonight. I'm going home." She pushed away from the bar and started to make her way back to the door.

"Kate!" Castle yelled after her. He motioned the bartender to make a third drink, set the first two down, and took off after her.

Beckett was just out the door when she heard him say her name again. She turned around, an annoyed look playing across her face. "Castle, I told you. I'm not playing third wheel to your hot date. Don't make me use my cop voice."

"It's not like that, I promise. She asked to meet you, and I really think you will be surprised by her. You might even like her! Come on, I will not treat you like a third wheel. Just have a drink. If you are uncomfortable, you can go home after that." He grabbed her forearm and pulled her back towards the bar.

She reluctantly let him pull her back inside. She could handle herself with a silly girl who wanted to know all about the dangerous life of a woman cop for a half hour or so. But after that, she was going home. Allowing Castle to slide a drink into her hand, she followed him to the table she had spotted before, the woman in blue making eye contact with her as she approached behind Castle.

The woman stood as Castle set a drink down for her and introduced them. "Beckett, this is Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington, D.C. Tempe, this is Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD."

Kate was certain her mouth hung open as she shook the woman's hand numbly. She added this to the list of things she didn't expect to happen tonight, and moved to sit down as Castle pulled out her chair. She mentally composed herself, took a sip of scotch, and tried to make a better first impression.

Brennan beat her to it. "It's really quite nice to meet you, Detective Beckett. I've been hearing about you for some time from Rick here."

"Well, Dr. Brennan, I wish I could say the same. But Castle here never told me he knew you. I happen to be a bit of a fan of your books."

"Yes, I could tell. You had the stunned fan look on your face when Rick introduced us. It's alright. It happens quite often and I have gotten used to it."

Rick took the opportunity to break the tension. "I haven't. Though I assume, Tempe, that male fans of yours don't ask you to sign their chests in permanent marker or slip their room keys into your hands." He watched gleefully as Beckett rolled her eyes.

"No. You are correct. That does not happen to me. Do your male fans do that?"

Beckett laughed aloud at the look on Castle's face. Brennan simply looked confused.

"I meant that my female fans do that—stop it Beckett—Tempe, I wasn't being literal."

"Oh, sorry. Booth often tells me that I am too literal." She looked at Beckett. "Booth is my partner in the FBI," she explained.

"Right. Andrew Ryan. I have a feeling I know quite a bit about him already."

"Actually, Andy and Booth are not the same. I constantly have to explain this."

"Well, I wish Castle here would stop telling people that I am Nikki Heat. It would make my life a lot easier." At his suddenly innocent face, she again rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on Castle. You revel in the fact that you can introduce fans to the real-life Nikki Heat."

"Only because you deserve to be introduced to the world, Kate Beckett."

Their eyes met and held for a brief moment before the silence prompted Brennan to excuse herself and go to the bathroom. As soon as Brennan was out of sight, Kate's hand darted forward and pulled hard on one of Castle's ears. He let himself be pulled out of his seat and halfway across the table for fear of losing the appendage. "Apples! Apples!"


	10. Proposal

"You could have told me I was about to meet someone famous! Someone I admire!" Kate whispered angrily, not releasing his ear from her grasp. Rick's hands grabbed at her wrist, trying to find any weakness that he could use to get her to let go. When she finally did, he sat back hard in his chair. "I should have known. Two crime novelists who also work in the field. It's obvious you should be friends."

Rick heard the jealously again surface in Beckett. "Isn't she great? She helps me with some of my more difficult and precise dead body descriptions."

"As long as you don't send her the sex scenes."

"Nah, though sometimes she sends me hers," he replied, grinning from ear to ear. "When Angela can't look over them, anyway."

"Angela?" she asked.

"Her best friend, and one very talented artist. I've never had the pleasure of meeting her face-to-face, unfortunately."

"Looking forward to that notch in your bedpost, Castle?" Beckett had one eyebrow raised when he met her eyes.

"That would be highly unlikely," Brennan said. Neither Beckett nor Castle had noticed her approaching. "Perhaps a year or two ago, but now she is married and having a baby."

"Sounds like you're too late, Castle. But a while ago she might have been right up your alley."

"Except she lives in D.C., so she would have been much further away than that," Brennan replied, taking another sip of her drink.

Castle glowed at Brennan's comment, his eyes sparkling. This is why he loved getting together with her—she was so damn cute when she missed social cues. "Shall we discuss why we asked you here, Beckett?"

"Is this about the case?" Beckett asked, suddenly understanding Castle's comments earlier and who he was here with right now.

Brennan began. "Your case with the four victims, yes. Rick shared some basic information and asked for my assistance with identification since two of the four are badly decomposed and one is only bone. I would like to help, but I have expressed that you have to go through certain channels to get me. Namely, the FBI."

"No. I'm not bringing in another agency on this, Castle. We've done that before."

"And it has always worked out."

"I'm sorry, Doctor Brennan, but this is my case. I don't give up jurisdiction that easily. I certainly don't ask for help before I even have any idea of what I am dealing with. I'm sure you could help, but I will not bring in the entire FBI into my city and my investigation."

Castle recognized the finality in her tone. As much as he knew he should stop talking, he continued anyway. "Beckett, if we simply ask for Tempe's partner, and then he requests her, it could just be the two of them. We won't be getting a whole squad in here to muck things up."

She looked at him evenly, glancing to Brennan occasionally for punctuation. "This case opened this morning. We haven't even been on it for 24 hours yet. I'm certain that Doctor Brennan and her partner would be valuable assets, but I'm not going to open this up for discussion. I'm also certain that the Jeffersonian team is very good, but I have my own team of very capable, very smart detectives and medical examiners who have not even gotten the chance to do what they do best." She turned to Brennan. "I'm sorry if Castle brought you here on false pretenses. I'm sure he was trying to help, but at this time, I really do not need your help." Remembering who she was talking to, she added, "But I love your books and appreciate your body of work in the forensic field. I look forward to being able to work with you some day in the future."

Brennan nodded. "Well said, Detective Beckett. I understand, though I am interested in the case and helping where I can, that at this time it would be wrong to assume that you need assistance. I was not brought here under false pretenses, though, and I am glad that I was able to meet you. Rick can sometimes be rather excitable."

"He has been known to jump the gun," Kate replied dryly.

"I _do_ know what that means," Brennan said. "And yes, that is exactly what I was saying." She laughed, Beckett joining her.

Castle looked helplessly from woman to woman and sighed. He had created a monster, and effectively made himself the butt of the jokes for the rest of the night. He resigned himself to several more hours of, "This one time," quips about his mishaps and dove into the melee. By midnight, Kate and Tempe had become fast friends and planned an early breakfast at Rick's apartment. Then Brennan would head back to Washington, and Beckett and Castle would be back on the case.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, back to the case next. I feel like my chapters are short, but that's just how I like to break things up. I'll try to get them a little longer so there aren't a thousand by the time I'm done with the whole story. Thanks for the reviews!**


	11. Bleached

Breakfast went off without a hitch. Alexis occupied Brennan as soon as she sat down at the table. Brennan had always fascinated Alexis, and Castle was quite alright with that. She had been one of Alexis's only real role models, albeit distantly, until Beckett had come into their lives. Castle continued to cook the eggs and bacon he had already started when Beckett arrived. She helped herself to a mug of coffee after she hugged Alexis and greeted Brennan, then sat at the kitchen island.

"Good morning, Detective. Sleep well?" Castle asked.

"Sure." She looked toward the table. "She knows Alexis too?"

"Yeah, well, when we met Alexis was still pretty young. She was fascinated by Tempe and my mother hadn't moved in yet. She needed a role model other than her dear old dad, and I was happy to get them together every once in a while. Who doesn't want their child to have a genius to confide in and talk to?"

"How did you meet?"

Rick smiled at her. "I'll tell you about it sometime. It's quite a story. But right now breakfast is ready. Would you grab those plates and that pitcher of orange juice for me?"

"Sure," Kate replied. She took the items out to the table, Rick following with a bowl and three plates of food stacked on his arms.

Alexis poured a glass of juice and helped herself first, passing the bowl of fruit salad to Tempe and the bacon the other direction to Kate. Too soon for any of them, breakfast was done and they were chatting amongst each other. Kate and Rick forgot briefly about the complex case they would have to face in an hour. Tempe forgot about the case in limbo she was processing. Alexis forgot about her homework.

But the inevitable ring of Beckett's cell phone interrupted the cleanup process and the rest of the morning. She set down the dish she was drying and went into the living room to answer it. When she came back into the kitchen, Castle could see that she had her cop face on. He quickly finished loading the dishwasher and walked to her. She looked from Brennan to Alexis and shook her head at him to stop him. She quickly inclined her head to the door, letting him know they needed to go. He nodded and began his good-byes.

"I'm sorry, ladies. Castle and I have to head into the precinct." As Castle hugged Alexis, she approached Brennan. "Tempe, it was wonderful to meet you. Maybe we'll meet again sometime soon."

Brennan nodded and extended her hand. "Of course, if you are ever in D.C., you are welcome to stay with me. I have two extra bedrooms in my apartment. Booth says I don't need them, but my publisher said I had to maintain my status with an appropriate living space."

"My publisher didn't get a chance to tell me that," Castle chimed in. "I had already bought my house in the Hamptons and the Corvette."

"I haven't made quite as much off my books as you have, Rick."

Beckett stepped back as Castle and Brennan embraced quickly. "It was good to see you again, Tempe," Castle said, one of his hands cradling her cheek. "Please don't stay away so long again."

"I'll try, Rick. But you know how busy I stay at the Jeffersonian."

"Of course." They released, and Castle went to grab his keys. "You can get to the airport?" he asked Brennan.

At her nod, her opened the door for Beckett, waved, and followed her out. As soon as they were downstairs and getting into the car, Castle wasted no time asking what she had found out. She started the car and pulled into traffic, which was light on a Sunday morning. "We have an identity on the Jane Doe."

The fun of breakfast and good company faded away quickly and they rode the rest of the way to the station quietly. Kate hustled to her desk as soon as they got inside the building and picked up the folder waitin for her. Castle leaned against her desk as she took a picture from the file and placed it on the murder board. "Who is she?" Castle asked.

"Kary Hewitt." Beckett stepped back and looked at the file. "They got a match on her fingerprints. She was arrested for drug possession back in 2005. Nothing since."

"Address?"

"Yeah. Let's go see what we can find out."

Another ride went by quickly and quietly. The day was once again sunny and warm. They both knew they wouldn't get to enjoy it.

"Why do the victims always live in 8th floor walk-ups?" Castle asked, wheezing a little as they worked their way up the staircase.

"Do you want the socio-economic answer or the cop answer?"

"Neither. Well, I guess I already know both. Is it wrong if I see if this girl has a bottle of water in the fridge?"

"I'll buy you one if we can get through the place in under an hour." By the time they reached Kary Hewitt's door, Beckett was taking the steps slowly so Castle could keep up. "Come on, Castle. I know you aren't that out of shape."

"Sneak a peek last time I had to clean up in the precinct locker room?" He grinned up at her, hoping to see some release in the tension he could see in her squared shoulders.

She couldn't help but laugh aloud, her chin dropping to her chest as it vibrated with the sound. "Hurry up," she said, pulling on one of his arms to get him up to the final landing. She inserted the key they had gotten from the landlord and muscled the door open. As soon as the door opened, she took a step back with her had covering her mouth and nose.

Castle stepped towards her, then he stepped back as well. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked. The fumes burned his nostrils and made his eyes water instantly.

"If you think it's bleach, then yes. A lot of bleach."

Castle pulled the door shut quickly and faced Beckett. Bleach meant one hell of a cleanup job. "I think we just found where Kary was murdered."

Kate nodded and reached for her radio.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: How about that season finale? I loved it, and September couldn't feel farther away. It is the reason I haven't posted, as I've had too much of that story floating around in my head to focus on my own. But I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	12. Contingency Plan

_We've got identity and murder scene on the Jane Doe. I'll keep you posted._

Brennan read the text message and slid her phone back into her bag while she walked out of the small hangar where the private plane had taxied. A sedan was waiting for her nearby and she tossed her bag in first and climbed in herself, the chauffer closing the door behind her. She took the opportunity to call Booth and let him know she had arrived back in D.C.

The phone didn't even complete one ring when it was answered. "Booth."

"I'm home, Booth. You can stop worrying," she said.

"Are you really home, or are you on your way home?"

She wondered how he always knew things she hadn't told him. "In the car on the way back to my place. I wanted to talk to you about something. Meet me at the diner?"

"I'm actually closer to your place right now. I'll meet you there in 20 minutes."

"Oh. Okay, then. See you soon." She hung up.

"Why would he be over by my place?" she asked aloud, then realized that the chauffer could hear her. She reigned in her self-communication for the rest of the ride home.

Booth's SUV was already parked in her lot and he was getting out of the car when her sedan pulled up. The chauffer got out and opened the door for her. She pulled several bills from her wallet, but he shook his head. "Mr. Castle took care of everything, Ms. Brennan. No tip needed." Brennan thanked him as he shut the door behind her and walked back around the car. She fished her keys out of her bag and almost ran directly into Booth, who was now standing between her and the door to her building.

"How was New York?" he asked.

She couldn't read the emotion playing across his face, but she was certain that he was not happy. "It was a good trip."

"Good," he replied. "Great."

Brennan raised her eyebrows. "Shall we go inside?"

He smiled. "Of course." He stepped aside as she walked forward.

Brennan never quite understood the phrase, but she assumed that the elevator ride's silence could be described as deafening. She had a feeling Booth's awkward quiet had to do with the fact that she told him she had a date while in New York. As she stepped inside and set her bag down near the door, she turned abruptly. "I didn't have sex with him."

Booth stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

"I think you are experiencing some jealousy, based on what I told you about my trip, but I want you to know that I did not have sex with the man I met."

"Well then." Booth's mouth opened and closed several times before he continued. "I was not going to ask."

"So you were jealous?"

"What? No, of course not. I was not jealous."

"Your vehemence suggests you actually were."

"Psychology is not your thing Bones, remember? Let's just drop it. Unless that was actually what you needed to talk to me about."

"No," Brennan replied. "Please have a seat. Do you want a drink?"

Booth plopped onto her couch. "Beer would be great. Not that weird one that tastes like cinnamon though."

Brennan grabbed a beer and a bottle of water before joining him in her living room. She looked at him fully for the first time, taking in the casually worn long-sleeved shirt and belted jeans. His face was getting tan as spring had finally blossomed in D.C. and the sun was now up for the latter half of his early morning run. His eyes met hers, expectancy showing in his features. "Of course. I wanted to talk to you about a potential case in New York that I received some information on while I was there."

"A case? Like a murder?"

"At least one, yes, but possibly four. Bodies were found in a dumpster in various stages of decomposition, and only one was a whole body. The NYPD is investigating, but my source thinks they will be needing assistance with identification and possibly other forensic avenues. I was wondering if the FBI could intervene, but with you as the sole liaison to the NYPD and me in my usual capacity as an attaché to the FBI."

Brennan watched as his brain worked through what she had relayed to him. "Has it crossed state lines?"

"No. So far, it is just in New York."

"You know the basic drill, Bones. Until it crosses state lines, the FBI leaves it to the local team."

"Aren't there instances where the FBI can intervene?"

Booth set his beer down on the coffee table. "If we think they need help or aren't doing a satisfactory investigation, yeah. How long has this case been open?"

Brennan looked down. "Since yesterday morning."

"Bones, how did you get this information?"

Brennan sat back in her chair. "The friend I met shared it with me and asked for help."

"You have a friend in the NYPD?"

"Not exactly. He works with them pretty often. Mostly for research."

"Well, Bones, unless you can give me proof that the NYPD is shirking their responsibilities or has hit a wall in the investigation, I don't think there is much we can do to help. They could hire you directly, couldn't they?"

"They can't afford me Booth. My consultation fee is very high."

"Then unless they ask us for help, I guess they are on their own. I'm interested in helping, but for now it looks like the ball is in their court."

She looked at him blankly at that statement and he chuckled.

After finishing their drinks and having a late lunch, Booth bid Brennan farewell and headed home with the promise of seeing her at the lab tomorrow. Brennan slowly unpacked her small bag, still wondering why Booth had seemed so angry with her. It was not the first date she had gone on. It wasn't the first time she had left town without telling him where she was going. She thought she detected jealousy, but Booth had always been hard for her to read.

Brennan grabbed her cell phone and typed a quick text message. _Sorry, Rick. Booth says the balls are off your court now. I don't know what that means, but we can't help unless it gets into FBI jurisdiction or the NYPD becomes negligent in the investigation._ She sent it and settled down on the couch for an evening correcting a paper on identifying sternal foramens.

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><p><strong>AN: Well the Bones finale was also a shocker, wasn't it? I've been quite happy with where my season-enders have gone this year. But between Castle and Bones my mind has been going 24/7 trying to figure out the next steps in the stories (and the steps we didn't get to see...). I can't wait to see what the amazing thinkers on this site will come up with. There are going to be some great stories out there in the next couple of months.**

**I want to give a quick shoutout to my boyfriend for helping me talk through where I see the story going and how it's going to get there. I appreciate his feedback and want to say thank you.**

**And thank you to those of you who have been reviewing. I really love hearing your thoughts.**


	13. Thai and Wine

**A/N: This is a longer one, with little bit of fluff that everybody deserves for staying with me so far. Just an eensie bit of it, but hopefully it'll keep us all going as we begin the long wait until September. A little bit of a time jump as well. Read and review and tell all your friends!**

* * *

><p>Beckett looked around her and, satisfied that nobody was watching, allowed her head to settle firmly on the desk in front of her. She was out of ideas. Castle was out of ideas. The minimal amount of information Lanie and Perlmutter could get off the other bodies was disheartening and despite finding where Kary Hewitt was murdered and questioning everyone they could find, they had come to a screeching halt on her murder as well. Ryan and Esposito had tracked down everyone who had ever known her but nobody could explain why she was killed. So Beckett sat with her head slumped in her arms, feeling her focus draining as her helplessness increased. If nobody was around to see her, she felt she could stay hunkered down forever.<p>

A hand touched her shoulder and she nearly hit the ceiling she jumped so high. She whipped around, her hand ready to reach into her hip holster. "Castle! What the hell? I could have killed you."

He stood still, hands up in the air as if she had just tried to rob him of all his money. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Scare me?" She sat back down, a sheepish look crossing her face. She always heard him coming. "You didn't scare me. You surprised me, that's all."

Castle looked down as the tired look reclaimed its hold on her features. "Right. Look, I'm feeling really beat. I'm going to head home. Maybe some down time will give me something."

"Yeah, Castle. I'm feeling the same way. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow." She plastered on a fake smile and nodded.

"You going to get together with Josh?" he asked innocently.

"No, he's in Michigan at a conference. I'll just grab some takeout and veg."

Castle nodded and turned to walk to the elevator. He stopped a desk away from Kate and turned. She was keying in her logout code and gathering her things. He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor, a plan already forming. He checked under his coat to make sure the files he pilfered were secured and hidden. He hailed a taxi, his phone already dialing the best Thai place on the island as he handed the driver a twenty and asked him to step on it.

* * *

><p>Beckett hopped out of her car and locked it. Her eyes swept the parking garage, a forced habit after years as a cop. She welcomed the quiet and stillness as she walked to the elevator. By the time she keyed open her door and dumped her things on the kitchen counter all she wanted was a large glass of wine and her couch. She went straight to her small wine rack and picked a bottle of red out. Rick had brought two bottles of it over one night and they had never gotten the chance to drink the second one. Kate had planned on saving it for another time he was over, but remembering the hint of cherry fragrance and how smooth it felt on her tongue, she opened it and poured a glass. She stripped off her blazer and abandoned the wine long enough to hang it up in the closet. A knock at her door caught her off guard—something that she didn't like to happen—and she stepped lightly back toward the kitchen. She didn't draw her weapon, but was still wary as she looked through the peephole.<p>

As soon as the door was open, the smell of Thai invaded her senses and her shoulders sank down in defeat. "Come on in, Castle. I know when it's no use telling you to go home."

He smiled at his success, and set about opening the containers once he had set down his jacket. He spotted the open bottle of wine and the full glass nearby. "You finally opened it," he said to her.

She grabbed two plates and dished herself some food before answering. "I liked it and I needed to relax a bit. Of course, the Thai works too."

"Pour me one?" he asked.

"Sure."

Rick watched as she pulled a glass down and uncorked the wine to fill it. "You know, I may have had another motive tonight than dinner with a lovely lady," he said as he filled his plate and closed the containers when he was finished. He left his plate on the counter and pulled the stack of files from beneath his jacket. He held them up before grabbing his plate and wine and heading to the couch. "We always do our best work out of the precinct. So I grabbed some things before I left."

"You stole case files."

"Well, yes. But I also brought food. Does that keep me from getting shot?"

"This time," Kate replied dryly, joining him on the couch and setting her glass of wine on the coffee table. A hint of a smile crept onto her face as she ate.

Castle finished his food first and set about spreading the case files out on the floor and table. He took his time, making sure she had enough time to enjoy all of her food and at least half of the glass of wine before patting the seat next to him. She picked up her glass of wine and scooted toward him, visibly less tense after the meal. "Run it for me, Castle."

He went through the papers he had laid out, one at a time. "Out of the four bodies we found on Saturday, one has been identified. Kary Hewitt, a 27-year-old, who was strangled and stabbed in her apartment. After her body was moved, her apartment was practically sterilized with bleach, but the blood stains were obvious. Crime scene techs recovered various fingerprints but minimal other evidence because of the effect of the bleach. Interrogation with her boyfriend turned up little as well. Their relationship was starting to head south as she had been increasingly busy at work. He hadn't heard from her in two days but that was becoming a regular occurrence. Kary's parents also hadn't heard from her recently. The old drug bust had faded from her record, but possession of heroine is still a serious charge. According to Lanie's report, no drugs were in her system at the time she was killed. Her employer hadn't heard from her since Thursday, and while odd, one no-call-no-show wasn't enough to concern them. Medical results show that she was killed sometime from Thursday night into Friday morning."

Kate leaned back and took a big gulp of wine. "Dead end number one."

Rick took a drink from his glass and nodded. "None of the other bodies are complete or identifiable. Between Lanie and Perlmutter they were able to discern that the skeleton was a male, the more decomposed body parts belong to a female, and they couldn't tell the sex on the less decomposed body parts. They are running as many tests as they can find, including on the bits of clothing that were recovered with the incomplete bodies, but nothing of any substance has come to light yet."

Kate was already up and pouring herself another glass of wine by the time he finished. "Dead ends two through four."

Rick put on a hopeful face. "We'll figure it out Kate. We always do."

"Well we better get something soon." She plopped back down on the couch and leaned back into the cushions, cradling the glass of wine in her hands and pulling her legs in towards her chest.

Castle mirrored her, resting one ankle on the other knee. "Let's just keep running it."

They went over every detail they could remember for another hour and a half. Neither had any new ideas. Conversation turned from the dumpster in which the bodies were found to Lanie and Esposito's blossoming relationship to Alexis's boyfriend Ashley going to college in the fall. Evening turned to night, and the darkness drew the last bits of energy they were holding onto. Rick looked over at Kate after a particularly long story about Martha's new acting school to see her face nuzzled in the couch cushions, her breathing even and her eyes closed.

"At last," he whispered. He reached over and gently pulled the empty wine glass from her hand. He could still smell the cherry scented bouquet from the drops remaining in her glass. They were the reason he had bought a whole case of the wine. The smell reminded him of her ever-present cherry fragrance; the smoothness of her calm during the most stressful case. She must have had two thirds of the bottle on her own in the three hours he had been there. He drained his own glass before reaching up to tenderly tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He turned his body towards her and rested his head so he could watch her as she slept.

* * *

><p>When Kate woke up, her cheek was resting against a warm body. Instinct told her to wake Josh up because he had to be late for work if it was dark out. But she stopped before her movement could disturb the man she was resting against. The smell of Rick wafted into her nose and, for some unknown reason, made her want to sink deeper into his arms. She looked up to his face and saw how peaceful he looked. She could feel the wine in her veins still, cracking her usually sturdy walls and loosening her body. She lightly pressed her lips to his neck, reveling in the slight hum that escaped from his throat. But she knew she needed to wake him up. She knew she needed to stop herself. She reached a hand up to rest on his cheek. "Rick," she said quietly. "Wake up."<p>

He mumbled something she couldn't understand and pulled her tighter to his chest. Her arm was pinned so that she couldn't remove her fingers from his face.

"Rick," she repeated. Nothing. She changed her tone and increased the volume. "Castle."

His eyes fluttered open. They looked around briefly before focusing on hers. "Kate? Did I fall asleep?"

She smiled. "It would seem so. In your defense, I seem to have decided you would be an excellent pillow."

He could hear the effect the wine was still having on her senses. "Time for bed," he told her, disentangling himself from her and standing up slowly.

"It's okay, Castle," she mumbled, already feeling the chill creep in where his body had been warming her. "I'll sleep here."

"Not a chance." Before she could protest, he had lifted her from the couch and was carrying her across the apartment towards her bedroom. He had never entered her bedroom before, but even in the dim light he could see that it suited her. The walls were dark, but the furniture was unstained wood. He set her down gently on the bed and helped her get under the blanket.

"Thanks for dinner, Castle. I'm sorry we didn't get anywhere on the case." Her voice drifted off at the end as her body sank into the soft bed and she slipped back to sleep.

"Until tomorrow, Kate," Rick whispered. He kissed her forehead before heading back to the living room. His phone was out and typing in a message before he had fully left the room.

Kate rolled herself over and looked at the door out of which Rick had just walked. She touched a hand to her forehead and smiled before allowing herself to truly fall back asleep.


	14. Almost

**A/N: I'm trying to get a chapter posted every 2-3 days. I'm really getting a kick out of the story alerts and favorite alerts I've been getting. Of course, despite the encouragement, the sheer amount of rain we've gotten in the Midwest these past two weeks has been draining. Mostly, I just want to go to sleep and wake up when the sun finally decides to shine again. So if you find yourself waiting a bit longer between chapters, that's why. But I still adore those of you who are reviewing my chapters and making my story a part of your FF experience. You guys make me feel like the sun is that much closer to breaking through the clouds. Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for the long-awaited double dates (and bickering) to begin.**

**-Eweknow**

* * *

><p>"I know Beckett, and I know she will still not voluntarily call and request FBI help." Castle paced around his office. He had gotten up early to take the call from Brennan and was walking a circle around his desk in only a t-shirt and boxers. "No, Tempe, we don't have any more leads. We have ID on the one girl but a dead end in all the interviews and at the murder scene. Our medical examiners and crime techs are running everything they can, but they have other cases too and can't prioritize that much. I'll tell her, but she won't want to hear it. She won't even consider it." He heard a beep in the call, and knew the only other person who called this early was trying to reach him. "Tempe? I think I have Beckett on the other line. Yes. I'll see what I can do. Please keep working on Booth? Thanks."<p>

Castle hit the end button and answered the other call with the touch of a finger as he walked to the kitchen for a desperately needed cup of coffee. "New lead? Really? Really? Okay, I'll be ready in 10 minutes."

He took a quick sip of his coffee and yelped as it burned his tongue. He jogged to his bedroom for the quickest shower in Castle history and to get dressed. Ten minutes later he was headed downstairs in the elevator with his coffee, a mug of coffee for Beckett, and a handful of oatmeal cookies for the road. She was already waiting at the curb. He handed her the coffee through the window and got in as quickly as he could without dropping the cookies or his own coffee.

"I cannot believe you are awake, Castle. It's 5:00 in the morning. You don't usually get up until Alexis has to get ready for school."

"Yeah, well, I had to take a call. I was lucky I woke up to the phone when it rang." He took a sip of coffee and a bite of cookie. "Cookie?" he offered.

"No thanks, Castle." She set the travel mug between her thighs to keep it steady while she drove, a Beckett quirk that Castle found ridiculously hot. She pulled out into traffic quickly, and didn't even need to bother with her siren there were so few cars to dodge.

"So where are we going?"

"A garbage dump outside of Newark."

"Good thing I didn't have time for a suit," Castle replied, looking down at his jeans, t-shirt and blazer. He looked back at Kate and noticed that although she had her cop face on, she wasn't tensed and she didn't look angry. She looked determined. He hoped their time together the night before had something to do with it. "You look rather well-rested," he commented, pretending he hadn't been looking at her and was focused intently on his oatmeal cookie.

"Thanks to three and a half glasses of wine and you tucking me in," she replied wryly.

He continued to occupy himself with his breakfast, a smile creeping across his lips. "Sorry I fell asleep. I hope the Thai made up for it."

"Yeah, thanks. You know, when I woke up at first I thought you were Josh. I had no idea what he could have been doing there. Not with his hours at the hospital." She caught his eyes look down, his smile disappear. "But thank you for getting me to relax. And putting me to bed."

He nodded.

"You made a good pillow too." She said it quietly, like she didn't want anybody to hear it but him-even though nobody could have.

Castle felt the smile turn up the corners of his lips again. He took another sip of coffee to disguise it. "Anytime."

The rest of the drive was quick and quiet. The stench of trash hit them before they could see the landfill. Before they knew it they were picking their way carefully towards Ryan and Esposito who were thigh deep in plastic bags and their rotten contents. Crime scene techs swarmed around in coveralls and heavy duty boots. Castle suddenly thought of Beckett, but relaxed when he saw she wasn't wearing her normal high heels but instead hard-soled .

She waded through the slop. "Please tell me that's what they said it was." She pointed to a trash bag at Ryan's feet.

"If they said it was the other half of one of your bodies, then possibly. Garbage pickers found it," Ryan said. He reached a gloved hand down to gently pull the bag open.

Esposito stepped around Ryan and walked toward Castle and Beckett. "It's a partial body, and it's pretty decomposed. But the garbage bags match."  
>"That's not too hard," Castle said. "Black garbage bags are pretty common."<p>

"It's enough though," Beckett said.

"They are commercial grade," Esposito said. "The rest of the trash in this area is the household variety, and contained in household trash bags."

"Even better."

Ryan stepped away as more crime scene techs pulled a stretcher into place and prepared to lift the bag and its contents. The two sets of partners hovered close as the medical examiner spread the bag open wide and began prodding the contents carefully. He spoke after several moments. "The amount of decomposition makes cause of death indistinguishable. It might coincide with your other bodies. Specifically, I've got a pelvis, two arms, and one leg." He paused, consulting his clipboard. "Oh."

Beckett stepped forward, Castle a breath behind her. "What?"

"Well based on these case files, one of the partial bodies you already recovered is missing almost exactly these body parts. I suppose if you add another few days of decomp, they could match. This might be the second half of a victim you already recovered. I'll take it and contact your medical examiner in New York with my findings." He motioned for his assistants to take the stretcher back to the van and followed behind them.

Beckett closed her eyes in exasperation and turned back to the three men behind her. "This is a nightmare." She rubbed each of her temples and slid her sunglasses over her eyes.

"We aren't going to get any kind of cooperation with New Jersey," Esposito said.

"It'll take half a year to get anywhere in the case," Ryan added.

"Not to mention there have to be other bags out there. Who knows how spread out they are." Beckett opened her eyes.

There was a smile on Castle's face. "You already have the answer," he said.

Once she processed what he was trying to say, her response was similar to the one she had several nights ago. "No, Castle. I'm not giving this up yet."

"You really don't have too much of a choice. This case just crossed state lines. If you get to the FBI before they get to you, you might have a choice at how much control they take."

Beckett stalked away. "No."

Ryan and Esposito watched her walk away and looked at Castle. "What are you guys talking about?" Ryan asked.

* * *

><p>Two days later the only new evidence they had was a convincing argument that the bag found in New Jersey contained the second half of a body currently in the New York morgue. Each half of the body remained in the state in which it was found.<p>

Castle sat in his chair, leaning with his chin propped on his fists. His eyebrows were as high as he could get them and a sly smile rested on his lips.

Beckett was trying to ignore his stare without much success. She had almost finished another e-mail begging for interstate cooperation when she broke. "Alright! Get me the damn number!"

Castle handed her his phone. It was already dialing when she took it from him and put it up to her ear.


	15. Request Received

"Booth." He leaned back in his desk chair with his feet propped up on his desk, purple and green striped socks showing where his pants rode up. "New York? Sure, patch her through." He watched through the glass panes lining his office and saw Brennan get off the elevator and make her way toward him. He knew it was not a coincidence. He heard the other line click through. "Yes, Detective, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI. What can I do for you today?"

Brennan tried unsuccessfully to look nonchalant as she knocked quietly and let herself into his office. She sat gracefully as he listened to the other end of the line.

"I see, Detective Beckett. Yes, I have already been made aware of the basics of your case from my partner at the Jeffersonian Institute. Of course, she declined to tell me from whom she received that information." He listened and his eyes widened. "Yes, yes I have. I actually haven't read any of his books in some time, no. I see. No, of course it's not a problem. Why don't we go over the case a bit right now? Sure, go ahead." He met Brennan's eyes for a moment before grabbing a pen and tablet to take notes.

Thirty minutes later, Booth finally ended the call, having promised to see what he could do. Brennan was sitting patiently while looking at something on her phone. He watched as her fingers slid deftly over the screen, locked it, and slid it back into her jacket pocket.

"Richard Castle? You had a date with Richard Castle?"

"Yes."

"I cannot believe you, Bones."

"I find it odd that you are so surprised. We are both crime novelists, and we would move in the same societal circles as such. We met several years ago, actually, and have been getting together periodically since then. Are we going to work with the NYPD on this case? From what Rick says, Detective Beckett would not ask for help unless she was absolutely certain she was out of other options."

Booth didn't say anything in reply. He sat and looked at his notebook for a while. He stood up slowly and turned to grab his jacket. "Come on, Bones. Let's get something to eat."

Brennan followed him quietly, dodging the agents deftly on the way to the elevator. She knew better than to talk when he was upset about something. They had spent a lot of time in Booth's SUV without saying a word. Brennan recognized that in some cases the silence was actually peaceful. This was not one of those cases.

It took until Booth was seated in the diner with a cup of coffee in his hand before he met her eyes seriously and spoke. "I need to know one thing, Bones."

"Of course. I'll answer to the best of my ability."

"It's not that kind of question, Bones. This is a personal question." She sat waiting, so he went on. "I need to know that you are not pushing this case on me and your team for this guy. I need to know you are doing this for the case, not for the man."

"You mean for Rick?"

He nodded, never breaking eye contact.

Brennan saw how dark his eyes had gotten. She knew she couldn't answer this wrong or it would be devastating to him. To them. She took a deep breath. "As I said, Rick and I go back several years. I find myself happy in his company and in the company of his daughter, Alexis. Rick has taken the time, as long as I've known him, to show me that those feelings are reciprocated. But this case is not about him. It is not about me. This case is about murder, something that you know I do not tolerate. I also do not tolerate anything less than the truth in a case where four people have been killed and their bodies dumped in the trash. The NYPD is not equipped to solve this case without help. We are. Between your intuition and the unparalleled scientific skills of the Jeffersonian, we can find the truth." She paused and made sure he was not simply listening, but that he was understanding her. "Rick and Kate are like us, Booth. They have a rapport that naturally works for crime solving. But as hard as they try, and as clever as Rick is, they cannot do this alone. Furthermore, Kate called to ask you for help. This woman does not give up. Rick says she does not let go. She is battling right now, and all we can do is join her side and fight until we find out what happened." She took a sip of her coffee, finally looking down. She didn't meet his eyes when she continued. "I do not want to do this for him. I want to do this for the victims."

He waited to make sure she was completely finished. When he knew she was, he waited for her to once again look him in the eye. "Alright, Bones. I'll put in the request as soon as we get back. You get your team briefed on what you know and then book a flight. We'll have the case files wired to us by morning and be in New York by tomorrow night. Sound good?"

Brennan could still detect some upset in his voice, but she could also decipher his recognition that her intentions with regard to the case were pure. She knew they would sort it out eventually. She smiled at him. "Thank you, Booth."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, as always. This was a bit more of the Bones side of things, by request. Please review. At least let me know what it is that keeps you coming back. For those of you in the US, have a good Memorial Day. I'll be posting again soon.**

**-Eweknow**


	16. They Meet

Brennan was relieved that the easy banter she had so often enjoyed with Booth was back to normal. She hoped that at least part of that was due to her upgrading his coach seat to first class as a surprise. They had spent the short flight bickering over organic food and, eventually, veganism. It was something they would simply never agree on but for some reason she enjoyed the debate, even if she knew they used the same arguments time after time. She didn't even say a word when he hefted her bag from her shoulder to his. She focused on navigating through the terminal without losing him or crashing into anybody else. After glancing down at her phone to check again where Rick said he and Beckett would meet them, she saw the Starbucks sign about a hundred feet away and motioned to Booth that they were heading there.

"Tempe! Over here!" Castle yelled. He set down his coffee and, standing, held up a cardboard sign that he had written 'Kathy & Andy' on as though he was a chauffer waiting to pick them up curbside. Beckett rolled her eyes and tried to hide behind her coffee cup. Ryan and Esposito, who had begged to come along, laughed at both of them.

"Booth," Brennan said. She pointed to direct his gaze, then strode confidently the rest of the way to the foursome waiting for them.

Booth ambled behind, wanting to watch his partner's interactions with her old friend before approaching the man himself. He was surprised to see a beautiful woman standing straight-backed next to the author. He hadn't pictured Richard Castle's partner as being so attractive. Most women who were cops chose to mask their femininity in boxy suits with their hair tightly pulled back. Beckett wore a fitted leather jacket and dark blue denim pants over impressively high heels. Her hair flowed around her shoulders in tidy waves. Booth was intrigued by the female detective, but was careful not to let it show on his face. He returned his attention to his partner.

Brennan went to Beckett first and shook her hand warmly. Then she hugged Castle and they kissed each other on the cheek before breaking apart. Castle waved the sign he had made in front of her and she chuckled. "Thanks, Rick. My partner, Seeley Booth." She motioned behind her, but soon realized he was further away that she thought.

Booth let out a breath and moved into position next to her.

"Agent Booth, I'm Kate Beckett from the NYPD. Thank you so much for coming to assist us for this case. We really appreciate it." Beckett extended her hand.

He took it gratefully, still surprised by the slim brunette's stunning looks. He had hoped Brennan wouldn't introduce him to Castle first. Not after assuring him that she was here for the case and not the man. "Nice to finally meet you, Detective Beckett. Bones here has told me about you a bit. I look forward to working with you."

Brennan spoke up again. "Booth, this is Richard Castle, a long time friend of mine and Detective Beckett's unofficial partner at the New York Police Department." She stepped aside so the men could shake hands.

Castle was pretty sure this man could break him in half. Luckily, working with Beckett had made that a quite common feeling. He stepped around his fear and extended a hand to the FBI agent. "Agent Booth. I am really glad to meet you. Tempe speaks of you often."

Booth gave the man a steely glance as he shook his hand. He tried to push aside the jealousy he was feeling at this man's connection to his partner. "Good to meet you. I've read some of your books, Mr. Castle, and you're a very gifted author."

"That's part of why Tempe and I get along so well," Castle replied. At Beckett's sideways glance he instantly regretted it. He was going to have to remind himself often during this case that there were two people who could easily kill him if he didn't watch what he said. Thinking of Brennan, he upped that count to three. If anybody here could get away with murder, it would be her.

Beckett broke the awkward silence. "This is Detective Ryan and that is Detective Esposito, both from our precinct. We usually all work together, and they have been with this case from the beginning."

Booth and Brennan shook hands with the partners in greeting. Brennan recognized that they were the basis for Detectives Raley and Ochoa from Castle's Nikki Heat novels. She couldn't wait until Booth read Heat Wave and made the connection himself. Of course, that would bring up the topic of him being-or not being-Andrew Ryan again.

"Well, it's getting a bit late, but I thought I could take Dr. Brennan by the morgue before she settled in at her hotel," Beckett said. "From what Castle has said, you won't want to waste any time, Tempe. We can figure out a course of action for the next couple of days."

Brennan nodded. "That sounds fine. I would appreciate it."

Beckett continued. "That leaves you, Agent Booth, with the boys here. They've already clocked out for the night, but they thought they could take you out for a drink or something before getting you to your hotel."

Booth looked from Ryan to Esposito. "You guys sure?"

"Of course, bro," Esposito said.

Booth reconized something familiar in the Detective. Sensing an Army man, Booth instantly warmed to him. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"Plus, Castle has the best bar in town," Ryan said.

Booth was confused, but followed their lead. "Bones, you good?" At her nod, he handed over her bag he had been carrying.

"I'll see you in the morning Booth," Brennan replied, taking the bag from him and slinging it over her own shoulder.

Castle kissed Tempe on the cheek. "Until tomorrow, ladies," he said, and ran to catch up with the guys.

"Be nice, Castle!" Beckett yelled at Castle's retreating form. Looking at Brennan, she caught her gazing intently at Booth and Castle. "They'll be fine."

Brennan shook herself out of her reverie. "Of course. I'm only concerned that Rick will tell one of his stories and Booth won't like it."

Beckett laughed. "That will happen most definitely. Come on, let's get to the morgue before it gets too late and we have to sleep there."

"It's not actually too bad," Brennan said. At Beckett's odd look, she continued. "I've done a lot of disaster work where the only place to get a quick four hours was a side room of the morgue. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but since I booked a room at a hotel, it seems a waste not to use it."

Beckett shook her head, and grabbed Brennan's suitcase. "Yes, let's make sure that room doesn't go to waste, Tempe." She laughed as she led the way through the crowd to the exit.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there it is. They've all met now. I'll tempt you all a little-the next chapter is titled "When Richard Met Temperance." Who's telling the story? Who asks for the story? Who gets a little pissed off because of the story? Be patient and you'll find out soon...**

**As always, read, review and tell all your friends!**


	17. When Richard Met Temperance

Before long, the four men were seated around a high top at the Old Haunt with beer and pretzels. Castle gave the word to keep the beer coming so they wouldn't be bothered each time one of their glasses started to look empty. Ryan and Esposito kept Booth occupied with sports chatter for a little while, giving Castle the opportunity to just absorb the man seated across from him. Tempe really did speak of him often, and this was pretty much what he had pictured the FBI agent to be. He wasn't an overly muscled man, but you could tell there was power in him. That observation was confirmed when Booth mentioned playing hockey in his spare time. But Castle was drawn even more to Booth's eyes. They were darkened, though whether by age or experience the author couldn't tell. He could see why Temperance was drawn to this man particularly. His eyes brought you in, and locked you in place. Castle used words to weave his stories. Booth used his eyes.

"So Castle bought the bar to keep it going." Ryan was talking about the Old Haunt now.

Castle straightened himself and easily threaded back into the conversation. "It meant a lot to me when I was younger. Somehow now, it means even more." He thought of all the time he had spent with Beckett, Ryan and Esposito at this very table and smiled.

"Yeah," Esposito chimed in. "Free drinks are a surefire way to impress the ladies."

"Now, now, Esposito. I only use that on the special ladies in my life." Castle took a drink of his beer. "Beckett, Brennan, my mother, and you two lovely detectives." He smiled at both of them in turn. He caught a hint of a laugh in Booth's eyes.

"Oh, Castle, I had no idea we meant so much to you," Ryan said, raising his voice up an octave in his best girl impression. "We'd love to be the next two notches in your bedpost."

"Get in line, fellas," Castle replied sarcastically. Changing the subject, he addressed Booth. "So what interesting cases have you and Tempe been working on lately?"

Booth was still unsure about the man seated across from him, but since he wasn't going to pay for all the beer he was drinking, figured he could let loose a little bit. "Did she tell you about the body farm?"

"She did not. Please do tell."

Booth spent the next half hour touching on the grossest cases he and Brennan had worked together. Then the discussion moved on to how he and Brennan met. Castle knew what was coming next.

Ryan, who was past his beer quota for the night, spoke up. "How did you meet her, Castle?"

Esposito played along with his tipsy partner. "Yeah, Castle, you haven't told us how you met the good doctor yet. We didn't even know you knew her at all."

Castle glanced at Booth, who despite all the drinks still seemed sober. Booth's eyes glinted dangerously, but the agent nodded at him. Castle couldn't resist the chance to tell a story. "Well, we met at a writer's convention back in 2001. Tempe was fresh off her first novel, which hadn't yet gotten the fame it has now. I was already established, and Derek Storm was really taking off. The convention was in Las Vegas that year. I suppose for now, I will ignore the Sin City catch phrase and tell you what happened there." Castle paused and took a moment to get his voice into the smooth story-telling mode that always hooked people.

Ryan and Esposito leaned in to listen. Booth remained still, beer in hand.

"I was actually in between two Derek Storm stories and was trying to get my muse to take a different path. I had a story in my head about a sort of female Indiana Jones. A sexy archaeologist who was always getting into trouble sounded fun to write. I was lounging in the hotel bar after a dinner date at the Bellagio. I was trying not to stand out, but with the tuxedo I must have seemed out of place. I had fans coming up to me every few minutes trying to score an autograph and a photo. Eventually, I retired to the darkest corner of the bar I could get to.

"And she walked in. It was like the woman whose story had been floating around in my head had just taken corporeal form and sat at the rail of the bar. I recognized her, after a moment of course, as Temperance Brennan, but I hadn't seen her yet at the convention. Aside from the back of her book, which some of the publishers had been buzzing about, I hadn't much idea of what to expect. Any expectations I had, however, flew right out the window. She was wearing belted jeans with an open khaki shirt layered over a tank top. The brown work boots and tight ponytail completed the look. I could imagine perfectly how she would look covered in dust with a whip dangling from her belt loop. I knew she wasn't an archaeologist, but she just looked the part."

The corners of Booth's lips turned upward slightly as he remembered that version of Brennan.

Castle made note of the twinge in Booth's eyes, but continued. "I wanted to watch her, see how she moved and reacted. I stayed in my corner, taking mental notes. But one particular move she kept repeating, and it made me wonder. She kept glancing around, almost as if she was on edge and expecting something bad to happen. I had to know what that something was. I was simply drawn to her. I slid out of my seat and walked toward her. She saw me coming and our eyes met as I crossed the floor. 'Excuse me,' she said, 'but aren't you Richard Castle?' Of course, I smiled and nodded. 'And you're Temperance Brennan,' I replied. She told me she was a bit of a fan and I told her I was impressed with her first book. I bought her a drink when her beer got low, and we got to talking. But she kept looking around, still on guard. So, I asked her why she looked so nervous. She explained that someone had been following her around all day, and trying to get her to agree to meet him at a bar. She didn't know who he was, but it put her on edge that someone was keeping tabs on her activity at the convention. If there was anything I could relate to, it was crazy fans. I told her not to worry. I made a note to myself to stay with her at the bar until she was ready to turn in and then make sure she got to her room without harassment."

"Nice," Ryan commented.

He slipped another look at Booth, whose mood was unreadable. Certain that wasn't a good thing but too far into the story to stop now, Castle drained his glass as the waitress set a full one in front of him. "We continued to chat about the convention, our books, really anything that struck our fancy. I was impressed by just how intelligent she was. She had seen so much and was so experienced in her field that it really surprised me. I wasn't a crime solver; I didn't have any real-life experience from which to write—at least at that time. It was clear that she had really used something important to her when she had written her book. Of course, the way she seemed to miss social cues and typical colloquialisms was incredibly endearing. I was torn between taking her under my wing and taking her back to my room. While I contemplated that, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

"Any plan I had to head this stalker off before he was able to talk to Tempe was ruined when I walked back to the bar. He was a bigger guy than I expected to see at a writing convention. There was something dark in the way he had leaned into the bar, effectively trapping her in her seat. I wasn't sure what I could do, but since she had said he was trying to get her out to a bar with him, I made a quick decision. I was much cockier back then, so I simply strode up to the bar, brushed him aside and apologized to Tempe for being late. The guy had backed away enough for me to pull her from her seat. We must have been a sight, me still in my tuxedo and Tempe looking like she had come out of a hiking magazine. She looked at me quizzically, so I winked at her before I leaned in to kiss her. I didn't expect her to understand that I was trying to get a point across to her stalker to back off, and I'm still not sure if she did understand, but that woman kissed me back like she was in on it from the beginning. It took me a moment to recover when we broke apart, but I asked her if the gentleman she had been talking to was bothering her. Her face went blank, so I addressed him directly. I said, 'Is there something Ms. Brennan can do for you?' The guy just shook his head, disappointment reading all over his face, and headed back out the bar entrance.

"As you can imagine, I was rather pleased with myself, so I sat Tempe back down on her chair and offered to buy her another drink. She said one more round and then she needed to head to bed. I waved down the bartender, and we just sat for the next half hour. I felt like she was looking at me like she didn't know what to make of me, but she wasn't unhappy that I was there. Her eyes sparkled at me for the rest of the time we sat there. When we both finished our glasses, she politely let me escort her back to her room, just in case the guy was still following her. The rest, as they say, is history."

Silence followed the end of his story. Ryan had his face propped up on one fist with his mouth hanging open. Esposito spoke first. "You've known each other that long and we've never met her?"

"Well, I have to confess that we fell out of touch a bit once I started working with the NYPD. I was keeping myself busy between all the cases and writing Nikki Heat. But we started talking again several months ago." Castle met Booth's eyes briefly and registered darkened disbelief in them. He wondered what part the agent didn't believe. "But I think we'd better call it a night. Beckett will want us all fresh in the morning to start working the case. Let's head home."

All the men stood simultaneously and stretched out a bit before heading to the door. Castle waved at the bartender, left several bills on the table for the waitress and looked around to see that most of the bar was already clearing out. He clapped Ryan on the back and fist-bumped Esposito before turning to Booth.

"I appreciate the drinks, Mr. Castle," Booth said. His voice was steely, but the tone seemed friendly enough.

Castle could tell Booth was sizing him up still. The history Rick had with Tempe had put a divide between them, that was obvious enough. But he had nothing against Brennan's partner. In fact, he already liked Booth, though perhaps that was the younger, cockier Castle that he had just resurrected. "Of course. But please call me Rick. I'd call you Seeley, but Tempe says you don't like that."

"Why don't we stick to last names then? I'm Booth, you're Castle."

"That's fair," Castle said and extended a hand.

Booth took it, then tossed his bag into the cab trunk before climbing in.

Castle could swear he saw the agent turn around in his seat and glare at him as the taxi drive off. He shook it off and, telling himself he was imagining things, climbed into the other taxi waiting to take him home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter was hard to write. As much as I believe Booth would want to reach across the table and pummel Castle for telling a story like that, I think he would remain calm to the outside observer. That doesn't mean he isn't fuming on the inside or that he won't ever express his feelings. I didn't want to make the chapter confusing with too much of Booth's thoughts and emotions because this was Castle's chapter. But we all know Castle has a knack for reading people, so I made sure to include that. We'll get to Booth's reactions soon. **

**I hope I didn't let any of you down! **


	18. Something New

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but my muse apparently took a vacation over the weekend-then reappeared today with vigor. I hope you liked Castle's little story, but it was tricky to write. It'll come back to haunt him, don't worry. We haven't heard the last of that tale by a long shot. **

**But now for some grown-up girl bonding time:**

* * *

><p>If this was how most morgues in New York City were, Brennan was impressed. Cam had made it seem like she had been working in an unsterile, dark, smelly dungeon before she came to the Jeffersonian. Even at night, this morgue was bright and clean. It smelled like a hospital. Everything was sanitary and, to Brennan's satisfaction, organized logically. "So the presumed other half of this body is still being held in New Jersey?"<p>

Beckett nodded. "We've been trying to take custody, but they are holding on. New Jersey can be stubborn when it comes to lending New York a hand."

Brennan gave her an appraising look. "I'm certain they would say the same thing about New York."

Beckett smiled a bit and said, "Maybe." She chuckled. "But it _is_ the other half of this body."

"I didn't mean the identity, I meant the body parts. Someone needs to do a complete inventory of these bones and those to see if they are, in fact, all there. After I get some preliminary findings here, I'll need to have everything sent to the Jeffersonian for analysis and identification. Booth should have no problem getting the body parts from New Jersey."

"How long?"

"How long until what?" Brennan asked.

"How long until I have to let go of this case and ship everything to Washington?"

Brennan set down the file she was browsing. "Kate, we are not taking this case from you. We intend to work with you to solve it. Just because the bodies will be in Jeffersonian custody, it doesn't mean you lose all rights to the case. It might appear that way on the outside, but Booth and I discussed it and we would very much like to work with you and Rick, as well as your Detectives Ryan and Esposito, to solve this case." Brennan watched as Beckett's shoulders relaxed.

"Okay. Will you and Agent Booth be returning to Washington with the bodies?"

"Not initially, as we'd like to remain in New York to get to know the case better. Then I will head back to help with the forensic work at the Jeffersonian, and Booth may or may not return to use FBI resources that are unavailable remotely. I suppose we will both be back here after a while as well to aid in the detective work. Of course, if we solve the case before that, some of what I've just said may be unnecessary." She picked the file back up and continued reading the medical examiner's notes on the oldest set of bones.

Beckett let out a heavy sigh of relief. When she called in the FBI, she had thought her activity in the case from then on would be minimal. "I'm glad we will all be working together on this case. I don't like to hand over jurisdiction at all, but at least my team will still have a hand in it."

"I understand. And both you and Rick impressed upon me the need to still take part in solving the case. I've done what I can to make that happen, as has Booth." Brennan paused as she scrutinized an x-ray of a rib cage and the notes beside it. "Where are these bones?"

Before Beckett could look down for a reference number, Brennan was already up against the drawers in the wall, opening one and sliding out the tray. Beckett joined her on the opposite side of the tray. "What is it?"

"There is a serious amount of degeneration in the cartilage connecting the ribs to the sternum. I was recently correcting a paper on sternal foramens and had to go over some research into sternum-related disorders. This level of degeneration but without significant bone loss or age implies a specific condition."

"Which is," Beckett said, trying to lead Brennan to get to the point.

"Tietze Syndrome, or at least severe costochondritis."

"Which is," Beckett said again, this time because she wasn't a doctor and did not understand what significance the medical terms held.

"Inflammation of the connective tissue and muscles connecting the rib cage to the sternum. I would say it is severe enough to have been Tietze Symdrome, which is very painful. This type of inflammation is seen more in younger adults, but more specifically in people who do a repetitive motion that puts pressure on the muscles and skeletal structure of the chest and shoulders. Of course, Tietze is also found in car crashes where the airbag does not deploy and there is significant impact with the steering column, but lack of trauma to the ribs suggests my other theory is more likely."

Beckett didn't bother to try to get her to say what the type of motion meant. She put a helpless look on her face and hoped Brennan got the point.

"Rowing. This is a disorder that is often seen in competitive rowers. And based on the age of the bones, this is a male about college age who had been rowing for many years."

"But these are the oldest bones. Can you narrow down when he may have actually been killed?"

"Hodgins can. I'll make sure that is his top priority when we ship the evidence back to the Jeffersonian. He'll need the bones and the bag they were found in. Also, with the bones, Angela can do a facial reconstruction to match the missing persons' database." Brennan felt accomplished as she slid the tray back into the opening and shut the drawer. "It's a good thing you brought me here tonight. I can e-mail Hodgins the evidence notes for this body and he can start a time of death estimate as soon as tomorrow morning."

Beckett looked down at her watch as the women walked back to the table where the rest of the files lay. The men were still probably out drinking, but she was tired and still needed to get Brennan to her hotel before going home herself. "Tempe, do you want to stay longer or shall we call it a night?"

"It is night, what else would you call it?"

Beckett sighed.

"Oh," Brennan said, realizing what Beckett had meant. "Since I'd like to get the documents organized and sent off to Hodgins tonight, I think I am okay with going to the hotel now. Thanks, Kate."

"Sure."

As Brennan packed everything into her shoulder bag, she wondered aloud, "Do you really think Rick would have told a story that was," she paused, trying to put into words what she was thinking, before continuing, "inappropriate for the crowd?"

"You mean a story that would make your partner uncomfortable?" Beckett asked.

Brennan nodded.

"Castle doesn't always have a sensor when he speaks. So, yes, I think he would have done that. We'll find out for sure soon enough." Beckett held the door for Brennan.

"Yes," Tempe agreed. "Tomorrow morning will be interesting."


	19. Late Night Thoughts

**A/N: I really enjoyed writing the 1st chapter in a four-part format, so I decided to try again. I'm sure I'll do it later on too.**

**I've been really honored to see how many people have been following my story. Please let me know what you think!**

* * *

><p>Beckett shut the door behind her and bolted it firmly. After spending a couple of hours with Brennan, she felt as though her brain was overloading. She was used to Castle's unending stream of consciousness, but with Brennan everything was a technical term that had to be explained. Sometimes even the explanations needed an explanation. After an hour, Beckett had realized she had a walking medical dictionary working a case with her. After two hours, Beckett was determined to buy a medical dictionary first thing in the morning so that she wouldn't have to say, "Which is," one more time. She wondered how Booth handled it and made a mental note to ask.<p>

As Beckett pulled the chain from around her neck and unclasped the watch on her wrist, she wondered what kind of reminders Brennan carried around with her. Brennan had started solving murders for some reason.

"Castle knows," Beckett said to herself. Castle had read Beckett with eerie accuracy on that very first case they solved together. He could have—no, would have—told Brennan her own story.

Beckett didn't know Castle and Brennan's story together. But she knew how she felt about Castle after he dug into her life and forced her to open up. It was a simultaneous feeling of wanting to slap the smug grin off his face and let him hold her all night long. Like he almost did the other night.

Josh. She was with Josh. Not Castle. Josh. Of course if you measured a relationship by how much time you spent with someone, she was barely dating Josh-and practically married to Castle. "Luckily, that's not how you measure a relationship," she told herself. "Trust is more important than time."

"You trust Castle. You trust him with your life. Always."

Beckett fell into bed. When she started playing devil's advocate with herself she knew it was time to turn off the lights and shut her mind down for the night.

* * *

><p>For once, Castle made it to bed without his daughter's assistance after a night out with the boys. Of course, tonight he had too much on his mind to be able to write with any sense of organization. He thought about Brennan and Booth. He couldn't figure out why they weren't together. He'd asked Tempe before, but had always gotten the rational, "We work together" answer.<p>

Rick knew Tempe well. He remembered her anger at Booth when they had first met. Booth hadn't known a thing about Brennan, or what drove her, when he had told her she made those around her feel stupid and that he wasn't her father. It had cut her right in the heart.

Seeley Booth had taken his time stealing Tempe's heart. He wasn't the first to crumble the walls she had built around herself, but he was certainly the first to distract her so completely from rebuilding them.

Castle wished he was envious, but Brennan wasn't who he had his eye on now. Beckett was the Brennan to his Booth. The woman he wanted. Though he supposed she was also the Booth to his Brennan. The cop to his writer. They all had so much in common.

Castle clicked off the bedside lamp and checked his phone one last time before sinking into his pillows, one hand covering a particularly tingly spot on his neck. No, it wasn't Booth he was jealous of. "It's Josh."

* * *

><p>Brennan stowed her suitcase in the hotel room closet, having finished unpacking her belongings into the drawers and onto the bathroom counter. She pulled a notebook and pen from her shoulder bag, along with some pieces from the medical examiners reports, intending to take some more notes before going to sleep. But her mind wasn't on the case. She really hoped Rick hadn't said anything to Booth to upset him. She had brought Booth here, she had introduced him to Rick, and she had taken a chance in doing so. These two men held so much importance. Castle was there first. He opened her eyes. Booth came along. He weakened her resolve and stole her heart.<p>

Brennan wanted nothing more than for Castle and Booth to understand each other—to respect each other. She knew she had screwed up with Booth, but she was a patient woman. She had wanted him when they worked that first case together. She still wanted him now and she just had to wait.

Brennan knew her friends thought she didn't understand the world. They thought she didn't understand psychology. They were wrong. Just because she didn't believe it was a hard science or that it was as valuable as Booth and Sweets made it to be, that didn't mean that she was afraid to take advantage of it. In this case, she figured it would be useful. Rick knew about her history with Booth. Maybe he would end up pushing them together. But she wanted the men to be friends. She didn't want anger to bring her and Booth together. Brennan really hoped Castle hadn't said anything to anger Booth. She didn't want them to start out disliking each other.

When she left the bathroom an hour later to get into bed, she paused. She thought she had heard something outside the door, but as she listened there was only silence. She shrugged it off and climbed into the welcoming bed for some well-deserved rest.

* * *

><p>Booth was angry. He paced back and forth in front of the TV, a little bit too much beer still driving his system. It was one thing for Brennan to have had a relationship with Castle in the past. But to go running back to her writer boy after telling Booth she regretted not being with him was like a sucker punch. Booth thought he was pretty good at reading guys, but he hadn't expected there to be such a big ego attached to this one. He wondered how Detective Beckett handled it and made a mental note to ask.<p>

It had taken some time, he thought. He sat down finally and clicked off the TV.

"I'm over Hannah now," he said to himself. "I told Bones it was the wrong time."

But he was ready now. And she was falling into the arms of another man. When she had told him working on this case wasn't about Richard Castle, he had believed her. He couldn't decide if he was madder at Brennan or Castle.

Before he had processed what his body was doing, he was out in the hotel hallway stalking toward her room. As soon as he reached her door he lost whatever courage had gotten him up off the sofa and out the door in the first place. She was probably already asleep. He rested his head on the door a little harder than he had planned, one hand on each side of the door frame.

"I knew, Temperance."

He pushed away and headed back to his room, the ache in his chest growing with each step.


	20. Awkward

Beckett, as usual, was the first to arrive at the precinct in the morning. She wanted to make sure there was significant, clean space for both Booth and Brennan to set up a sort of home base. She had planned to put Brennan in one of the medium-sized conference rooms that had a projector and Booth at an empty, yet secluded, desk in the bullpen. There was plenty of space in the conference room for both of them, but she wasn't sure if they needed separate work spaces. If she'd had a choice, she would have given Castle one a long time ago, but she knew that the chair next to her desk was his spot and he wouldn't be happy anywhere else. Besides, she had gotten pretty good at getting him out of her hair if she needed the desk to herself.

Booth and Brennan arrived together about an hour after Beckett. Between the two of them they carried a decent amount of equipment. An awkward silence stood between them as they approached Beckett's desk.

"Kate?" Brennan asked. "Where would you like us to set up?"

"Good morning Agent Booth, Tempe. I've got you, Tempe, in this conference room here," she said, getting up and leading the partners into the now neatened area. "And as for you, Agent Booth, I didn't know if you'd want to be in here as well or would like a separate area for yourself. There's definitely ample room in here, but I do have a desk in the bullpen if you'd like."

Brennan set her bags on the conference room table. "There's plenty of space for both of us in here, don't you think Booth?" She gave a half-hearted smile.

Booth set one large bag on the conference room table as well. "Actually, I wouldn't mind being out in the bullpen with you and the other detectives, Beckett. That way Bones here can have her privacy."

"That's really not necessary, Booth," Brennan replied. The half-hearted smile had been replaced with a look of disappointment.

"No, no. Detective Beckett already set me up a space out there. Just point me in the right direction," Booth said to Beckett.

Beckett pointed at the corner desk near Ryan's. Booth left the bag he had set on the table and headed back out of the room and over to his area. Beckett glanced at the three bags on the table. "All yours? That's a bit of equipment," she said to Brennan, trying to lighten the mood.

Brennan simply nodded and began pulling out her laptop and cables.

"Well, there's a projector and a screen if you want them. They're both in really good shape for this precinct." She paused and watched Brennan wordlessly begin setting up her equipment. "Tempe," she said to get the woman's attention. When Brennan met her eyes, she asked, "Did Castle say something he shouldn't have?"

"It would seem so. Booth hasn't said more than a couple of sentences to me all morning. But he doesn't seem angry. He seems—sad." Brennan's expression matched her assessment of Booth's.

"I'll have a word with him when he gets in. If you need anything, holler. My desk is right out there and the break room is down the hall." At Brennan's nod, Beckett left her alone. She wandered back out into the bullpen, which was slowly becoming more populated. She noticed Esposito getting off the elevator and nodded a good morning to him. When she got back to her desk she unlocked her computer and returned to tediously reviewing her case files.

Thirty minutes later, the morning noise in the bullpen was deafening. Ryan and Esposito were working with Booth, giving him info on the case so far. Since they had done most of the leg work, Beckett was letting them take the lead with the FBI agent. They also had developed a bit of a rapport with him the night before. Despite Booth's smile though, she could tell that Brennan was right—he was hurting. "Castle," she muttered under her breath as she shook her head.

As if on cue, the elevator doors opened and Rick Castle walked into the bullpen. He had two large paper bags in his hands and he made a beeline to the break room after he had walked past Beckett with a cheery "Good morning."

Beckett pushed away from her desk and followed him, intending to corner him somewhere and find out exactly what he had said to Booth the night before. She walked to the break room—and stopped short. He was unloading boxes of pastries from one of the best bakeries in town and gallons of coffee with all the fixings. Right on top of the first plate of sweet treats was her favorite, the chocolate éclair. Before she could form words, Castle had noticed her and plated the chocolate éclair, paired it with a napkin, handed it to her and pulled a separate coffee cup from one of the bags. "This would be for you," he said, holding out the coffee.

She took it, her mouth still slightly agape at the table full of goodies.

Castle leaned out the door and flagged down Ryan and Esposito, then spotting Brennan in the conference room, headed that way. He returned moments later with Brennan in tow. Booth followed the detectives. Beckett, having recovered from her brief pastry shock, stepped back so everyone could file inside. She noticed the friction when Booth and Brennan tried to walk through the doorway at the same time. Both stepped back to allow the other through then held their positions, neither wanting to back down. Finally, at a gesture from Booth, Brennan entered first. Once everyone was inside, Castle took some time explaining what everything was.

"Take something now, because once the rest of the precinct hears that Castle here brought breakfast, it'll be gone in five minutes," Ryan added.

As soon as Ryan, Esposito, Booth and Brennan were loading up on the treats, Beckett stowed her own out of sight, grabbed Castle by the arm and dragged him out into the hallway.

"Hey, Beckett, that hurts," Castle protested. "I'm not going to get the last chocolate donut."

"Save it, Castle. I know you had a box delivered to your apartment too. I also know that at least half of that box is chocolate donuts. They're Alexis's favorite too." She paused as she realized what she had just said. She really did know a lot about Castle—and his family too, apparently. "What did you say to Booth last night? Brennan says they haven't talked all morning."

"She said it was my fault?"

"She didn't have to, Castle. You let your mouth run away with you sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Literally," he said suggestively.

"Shut up and answer my question."

He backed away and leaned against a wall with his arms in his pants pockets. "The guys talked about sports for awhile. Then we shared some weird cases. By the way, Tempe does not share the juiciest cases. You should hear some of these," he said. At her crossed arms and pursed lips, he got back on track. "Then Ryan and Esposito asked how Tempe and I met. So I told a story. That's it."

"And knowing what you do about Tempe and Agent Booth, can you think of a reason why that story could have upset him?" She looked back at the bullpen and saw Booth sitting with Ryan and Esposito. A little further she saw Brennan holding an x-ray film up to the light in the conference room. By the time she looked back at Castle, his face was pink and he looked sheepish.

"I may have exaggerated the story a bit to tease him."

"You need to talk to Tempe right now. I mean it, Castle. Right now."

"I did it out of love," he said.

"Why the hell would you tease an FBI agent? Are you insane?" She was close to him now, invading his personal space for effect.

"No, it was perfectly logical, which I think Tempe will appreciate. May I explain?" he asked.

"By all means."

"Tempe has been feeling for awhile now that she waited too long. She finally knows that Booth is who she wants and what she wants. Booth moved on after she denied him and ended up with this reporter. He loved her, she broke his heart. Tempe, while Booth and his girl were dating, realized that she regretted not getting together with Booth. When he and the reporter broke up, Tempe thought it was her chance, but then he didn't want to date anybody. That was a couple of months ago. She's just been waiting for him to be ready. I thought maybe if he was a little jealous, it would give him a push in Tempe's direction."

Beckett stood silently for a moment and let her face fall into her hands.

"What?" he asked.

"Let me guess. This story of your meeting had a bit of romance in it?" Beckett tried to ignore the pang of jealousy.

He nodded.

"She flew to New York to have dinner with you. Between your story and that date, what do you think it implied?" She watched as recognition dawned on his face.

"But I'm not sleeping with Tempe."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Go talk to her and get this straightened out!"

"Yeah."

She stepped out of the way so he could get around her. She paused for a moment before ducking into the now crowded break room to grab her hidden éclair and coffee. By the time she sat down at her desk, Castle was seated next Brennan in the conference room, their heads close together as he explained the situation. Beckett sighed and took a bite of the pastry. She wondered what Castle would do without her to guide his foot back out of his mouth.


	21. Identity

"We've got a possible ID on the rower from missing persons," Ryan said, loud enough for the whole team to hear over the noise of the bullpen.

Booth was the first to join the detective at his desk, Brennan was the last. They all adjusted until each was in a sight line of some kind with the computer screen.

"I had to look outside of the area and a while back to find it, but it was a pretty damn good match," Ryan continued.

"Max Avery," Beckett read. "Age 20, sophomore at Yale."

"On the heavyweight crew team," Brennan continued, reading further down the page.

"What was a Yale student doing in Manhattan?" Castle asked. Silence followed the question.

"Let's find out more about this kid," Booth said. "I want a positive identification before we talk to the parents if we can get it."

"I'll have it for you in a couple of hours if I can," Brennan replied. "Can you please print that for me and then e-mail it to me as well, Detective Ryan?"

"Sure."

Brennan was already on her way back to the conference room when she heard his reply. She dialed the lab on the way. "Hodgins, how close are you on time of death?" She shut the door behind her and sat in front of her laptop. "You should have that soon, yes. Can you please have Angela make this facial reconstruction a top priority? Thank you. Has she already started estimates with the x-rays and photographs? Good. She can finalize as soon as she receives the skull. Yes, in a few hours I suppose. I had the medical examiner prepare and ship what each of you needed this morning. I'm also forwarding you a missing persons report that I believe will be a match for the victim. We'll be doing that as soon as I get better confirmation. Okay, please call me as soon as you have anything for us." She paused and shifted her phone to the other ear. "Yes, I'll talk to Angela."

Another pause. "Hello, Ange. Booth is fine. No, we have not. Well the parts of New York that we have been in so far have not been very romantic—the airport, a morgue, the 12th precinct here. He's upset anyway and not being very sociable. Something Rick told him. I'll tell you some other time. Have you started the facial reconstruction yet? Good." She sighed and slouched into her stiff-backed chair. "Ange, we're fine. I'm going to talk to him later, but we are kind of busy right now with the case. Okay, I'll think about doing it over dinner. No, we will not be making out up against my hotel room door after dinner. Ange, I'm hanging up now. Yes, goodbye." She ended the call and set her phone down gently on the table. She took a slow, deep breath in preparation of getting back to work.

"How's Angela?" Booth asked from the doorway, which was just out of sight due to her slouched position and open laptop. He leaned up against the door jamb with his arms crossed.

Brennan jumped. Realizing she didn't want him to know he startled her, she tried to cover it up by pretending to sit up from her slouched position quickly. She could tell he saw right through her. "Booth. How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Somewhere between 'we're kind of busy right now with the case' and 'doing it over dinner.'"

"Oh. Well you know how Angela pries."

"Sure," he said. He pushed himself off the door jamb and crossed the room toward her. "Listen, we need that ID on Max Avery. Does Hodgins have anything yet?"

"No, Booth. He hasn't really had much time or material to work with. Please, give them some time. The packages I had sent to the Jeffersonian should be there soon. You know they will let us know as soon as they figure anything out. We only just got the possible victim."

"I like to close my cases as quickly as possible, Bones."

She could hear the tension in his voice. It was tight, as though he was a rubber band stretched to its tensile limit. "Five minutes is an unreasonably short amount of time to expect to solve a case. Especially one of our cases."

"Let's just get this one solved so we can go home. At least let's get this ID settled so you can get to your dinner." He exited the room without looking back.

Brennan could tell this was the wrong time to ask him to dinner as she had planned, so she let him go. She would surprise him later with Thai at the hotel. She needed to explain some things to him—and she needed to do it tonight.

* * *

><p>Castle and Beckett leaned against her desk and looked at the murder board simultaneously. They were quiet as they reviewed what was there and tried to come up with theories for what wasn't.<p>

"Why does he still look like he's going to murder someone, Castle?" Beckett asked in a hushed tone as she watched Booth return to his workspace.

"Look, I told her what I did. She said she would talk to him. She just didn't say when," Castle whispered back. "There's nothing else I can do."

"You can talk to him directly."

"Tempe asked me not to. My work here is done."

Beckett snorted.

"Can we get back to the case, please?" Castle asked. At her eye roll and nod, he continued. "If Max Avery is the victim, we'd need to find out if he did, in fact, have Tietze Syndrome."

"Esposito is already digging up any medical records we can get on him. But why was he in Manhattan?"

"You mean why was half of him found in Manhattan? We don't know where he was killed. We found half of one of the other victims in New Jersey."

"For argument's sake, let's assume he was killed here. Come on, Castle, write the story. Why would he have been here?"

"It depends on the time of year, I suppose. Vacation, crew competition, training. School trip? We don't have enough to go on yet. When did he go missing?"

Beckett got closer to the murder board to read from the missing persons report. "Spring of 2006."

"They row crew in the spring. Maybe he _was_ here for a competition."

"Here," Beckett said, pointing to a paragraph on the page. "Several teammates saw him as they were getting on the bus from a competition with Columbia University. Thought they saw him when they got back too, but he never got back to his apartment at Yale." She turned to Castle. "They think he went missing when he got back to Connecticut," she began.

"But he never got on that bus," Castle said, finishing the sentence for her.

* * *

><p>Booth answered his cell on the first ring without even looking at the name of the caller. "Please tell me you have something for me, Cam." He looked up to see three detectives and a writer with their eyes trained on him. "But from your end, these remains are those of Max Avery? Good, Angela confirmed facial recognition. What is Hodgins saying about time of death? Alright, I'll ask her." Booth looked over his shoulder at Beckett and nodded to let her know they were right on identification.<p>

At Cam's next comment, Booth hunched over his desk and lowered his voice. "Don't start this, Camille. Don't call me Seeley. She said no, then I said no and now it's just too late for both of us. She's practically shacked up with the writer. Just leave it alone. I mean it, Cam." He snapped the phone shut and stood to join the detectives.

"So we're sure it's Max Avery?" Beckett asked.

"The squints are good. If they say it's him, then it's him. I'm going to go check with Bones about time of death lining up with the missing persons report. If so, we start interviewing as soon as we can." Booth stepped away from what they called the murder board and went to the conference room. Brennan was holding her phone up to her ear, so for the second time that day, he leaned against the door frame and waited. This time all he heard was science-speak. Some of the tension he was holding was soothed just watching her work.

Brennan ended her call and looked up at him. "Angela and Cam are certain that it is Max Avery."

"Cam told me. What is the consensus with Hodgins about time of death?"

"Hodgins and I agree time of death and the date of the missing persons report are in concert. The bones are old, so it's hard to tell, but it looks like they were right around the same time. I believe he was killed in New York and then his friends and family listed him as missing a day or two later when they realized he wasn't in Connecticut." She paused. "Will you need my help with interrogation?"

"No, Bones. Beckett and I are going to split up the family and teammates with Ryan and Esposito. We probably won't get anything lined up until tomorrow though. If you can keep doing what you do with the bones, we'll handle the living." He looked at his watch and then back at Brennan, figuring she hadn't eaten much since breakfast. "You know, why don't you call it a day? It's past six and you must be hungry."

"I'd rather keep working, Booth."

He was used to getting that response, and his rebuttal was automatic. "So take some of it back with you and work where it's more comfortable."

"What about you?"

He sighed. "I'm going to finish up some things with the detectives and head back myself."

"I can wait for you if you want," she said.

"No, I'll get Esposito to drop me off. Don't worry about it. Night, Bones."

"Goodnight, Booth. If you think of anything, just drop by my room."

He exited the room and glanced back to see her watching him walk through the bullpen. The more he talked to her, the more his anger ebbed away. He always wondered how she could enrage him at certain times and sooth him at others. He at least recognized that she been nothing but pleasant to him even though he had practically been giving her the cold shoulder all day. Maybe solving this case and getting out of New York, and Castle's home turf, could give them a chance together.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Here's a little incentive for you all, since I can tell you that this next chapter is going to be tough for me to write and it may take a little longer than I like to have in between posts:**

**Chapter 22 is going to be titled "Reconciliation" **

**Thanks for the reviews and the continuing interest by way of story alerts! I really love getting those e-mails on my phone and I really appreciate each and every one of you who is still reading (and hopefully will continue to read).**


	22. Reconciliation

Brennan waited until 7:00 to have the food delivered to her room. She wanted to make sure Booth would be back from the precinct when she surprised him with dinner. Rick had given her the name of the man who ran one of the best Thai restaurants in town—and Beckett backed up that claim. Yet as soon as she had the bag of takeout containers in one hand and the other hand on the doorknob, she froze.

She wondered if she was doing this right. Basic American tradition always had the male making the first move in the relationship and here she was going against that. But hadn't Booth made the first move what seemed like forever ago? He had told her she was the one for him. She denied him. By the time she realized that mistake, she had lost him. Technically, she thought, this would be the third move. He made the first, she made the second and now she would make the third.

She removed her hand from the door as she began to doubt herself even more. Was she really going to make a move? Was that her motivation? Or was this dinner just a way to explain herself? Perhaps she was taking one step too many in thinking that she would be making any sort of move.

She stopped her inner monologue for a moment to calm herself. She had to come up with an objective. She was going to take dinner to Booth to explain to him where Rick fit into her life. That was her objective. If she kept it simple, she could do it. If other things came of her completing that objective, she would take them in due course. Her shoulders tall and her chin up, she opened the door. She patted the jeans pocket where she had stored the keycard to make sure it was there before the door closed before her. Stepping into the hallway, she turned left and practically marched to Booth's door, room number 2004.

"The year we met," she said quietly to herself, smiling. It was time for a fresh start. She knocked firmly and waited.

"Bones?" Booth asked as he opened the door. "Are you okay? Is everything okay?" His eyes scanned the hallway around her protectively.

"Of course." She held up the bag. "I brought dinner." His concern used to annoy her. She wondered when she had started considering it—she couldn't put her finger on the right word.

His speech interrupted her thought process. "Oh. I thought you had dinner plans already."

She thought back to the part of the phone call that he had walked in on. "I did. These were my plans. I wanted to surprise you. And there is something we need to discuss."

"Okay," he said, stepping out of the doorway so she could come into the room.

She set the bag of food on the table and surveyed the room. Like his airplane ticket, she had paid for a slight room upgrade without telling him. It meant he got a small sitting room with a couch, table and television as well as a TV in the bedroom. There were some case file pieces spread across the table top with a half full bottle of beer weighing them down. "Oh," she said, "I didn't think to bring drinks."

"There are five more of those," he said, indicating the green bottle, "in the mini-fridge. I bought those on the way back from the precinct. But the mini-bar is stocked as well."

"I'll just have a beer." She started to unpack the food onto the table as he snagged a fresh bottle from the fridge. "Can I put these somewhere so they won't get messy?" She began to put the scattered papers in neat piles.

"Leave them there. Maybe we'll come up with something while we eat."

It was silent as they sat. Brennan was again aware of the awkwardness that had taken up residence between them. She needed to say what she was going to say and end this tension. "Booth, what I came here to discuss isn't the case."

"I figured. But usually when we eat together, we end up talking about a case. It's just the way we work, Bones."

She took a breath. "I actually came here to talk about Rick."

Booth choked a bit on the bite of pad thai he had just put in his mouth. When he regained his composure, he wouldn't meet her eyes. "You know what, Bones? It's okay. You and Castle, I mean. I will not get in the way. He told me how you met and it pretty much told me everything I needed to know."

Bones set her container on the table. She felt her mood go from nervous to upset. "Then either you weren't listening, or you too fell victim to Rick's overdramatic storytelling."

He set down his food as well. "I don't think so, Bones. It sounded pretty clear to me. I heard everything perfectly, right down to the cocky tone of his voice. Not that I needed to hear the story, when you'd fly here on a moment's notice for a date with him!" He was leaning forward at the table, his eyes now meeting hers squarely. His tone changed to one that was quiet and dangerous. "I gave up gambling a long time ago, Bones, and I'm not going to take any more chances on something if it isn't meant to be. Maybe for once, I should take your advice and stop listening to my gut."

Brennan could feel tears welling up. He must think she's telling him they can't be together. That she wanted Rick all along. "You're wrong," she said quietly. "Rick told you his version of how we met. I know because he told me today. But that story was intended to make you jealous, Booth, don't you see?"

"That part I got pretty clearly," he huffed out.

"But for the wrong reason." She pushed away from the table and made for the window. When she reached it, she turned and leaned on the small sill. She couldn't explain why, but she needed the distance right now. "When I met Rick, I had just written my first book. He wasn't the first alpha male I had come across, obviously, but he was the one who most clearly showed the traits I had learned about. He was handsome and rich and could have had most of the women in the bar that night. Part of what makes him an alpha is that he knew it."

Booth stood up violently. "But the fact that he knew it and _used _it, Bones, is what makes him a jerk. Don't you see that?" While he spoke he came out from behind the table to stand in front of it, now only paces away from her.

"Please let me finish." She paused. She knew this was it. This was the time for her to lay her cards on the table. "We flirted, it's true. When he talked to me, though, it wasn't with the conniving wit that I'd come to expect from a man who just wants another woman in his bed. He spoke with intelligence and charm. He took me under his wing, and opened me and my writing up to new opportunities. When he took me home to meet his daughter, thinking she needed a strong female role-model in her life, I instantly adored her wit and intelligence too." She could see Booth's eyes flicker at that last part—she knew she had mentioned Alexis, but he must not have caught it when she did. "The family side of Rick is who he really is, especially now. He is a father first. It was that part of him, his heart, which drew me to him. He understood me, not just the writer in me, but the scientist too. He found my slightly amiss social tendencies endearing."

Her heart leapt as she keyed in on the word she couldn't find earlier to describe Booth's protectiveness. She felt the smile cross her lips as her mind and heart connected in that moment. Her emotions surged and she suddenly knew she could continue—knew she would finally say what he wanted to hear. She could erase the anger that played on his features and in his stance with one simple statement.

"But Rick is not who I want, Booth. Rick is my protector, but not the way you are. Rick is like an older brother, he became that when he saw I so desperately needed guidance that my own brother might never provide. I tell him everything. I tell him about you. He was trying to make you jealous with that story, but not to pull us apart. He did it to try and push us together." She straightened from her leaning position on the windowsill, afraid to take a step closer to him, but desperately wanting to close the space between them.

"What are you saying, Temperance? Tell me." She could see the anger already beginning to ebb away as hope crawled its way into his mind. She shivered in delight at the sound of her name on his lips.

"I don't want Rick, Booth," she repeated. This time she would add what he needed to hear. "I don't love Rick. I missed chances before and I was scared before. But now, I'm not."

He took one step in anticipation and held.

"It's you. I've always wanted you." She let out tension she didn't even know she was carrying with those words. She breathed in deeply, filling the void with fresh energy.

Before she knew it he had closed the space between them and taken the new breath away. When he gathered her up in his arms, she finally had the sensory experience her dreams and fantasies could never quite substantiate. The hand he had buried in her hair eased her head back and then he kissed her—and the world was still. She had never understood why people say they saw fireworks or heard choirs singing. Temperance Brennan had certainly never experienced anything like that. But this sudden calm that came upon her when their lips met must be her equivalent. There was no sound, no light, and no thoughts. It was only them.

They could feel the hum of energy under each others' skin. As Booth tilted her head to the side to deepen the kiss, she molded her body to his. He backed her into the wall behind her, letting it keep her pressed to him and allowing his hands to roam freely. When he felt her moan, rather than hearing it, his hands framed her face and dragged his lips from hers. She opened her eyes, confusion swimming in them, wondering why he stopped. He had something to say before they took their passion any farther.

"Temperance, when I said 'I knew,' I meant it. I knew. You're my partner, and I love you."

Brennan didn't know how she found her voice. She was numb from head to toe, every muscle limp. But she managed to take in a breath and say, "Show me, Booth, please. Make love to me." She watched his eyes darken in response.

"Are you sure?"

She simply smiled and kissed him again. She felt herself pressed up hard against the wall once more, and knew he got the message.


	23. Over

**Author's Note: Phew. I wasn't sure if I was going to make this an M rated story or not. I'm still not sure. What I will probably end up doing is writing two versions of the juicier events, and send the M version to those who might like to read it. That way, the posted story stays T. **

**We're stepping away from the Brennan/Booth bliss for a moment. We'll get back to them, don't worry. Now it's time for Beckett:**

* * *

><p>Beckett sighed as she pulled out of the parking space and into traffic. All she could see was Castle's slightly dejected face when she declined his invitation to dinner because she had a last-minute date with Josh. She felt bad, but getting time with Josh was difficult. Knowing she wouldn't talk about the case with Josh gave her hope that she could get it off her mind for a little while. She wasn't in a rush, but she got to the small restaurant before Josh did. They'd been there before on a date, and she remembered how romantic it had seemed that night. They had only just begun dating and Castle was gone for the summer and mostly out of her mind. She took a stool at the bar, wishing she had taken the time to go home and change out of her cop clothes and into something a bit more feminine. It was hard to put work aside when she was wearing part of it.<p>

She was nursing her second glass of wine when Josh arrived. They were seated quickly. Beckett asked how his conference in Michigan went, and familiar conversation threaded itself through the meal. When coffee and dessert were delivered, Beckett noticed a change in Josh's mood. She sensed that he was planning on saying something he figured she didn't want to hear. Willing to wait, she dug into her dessert and then took a sip of coffee, meeting his eyes over the mug. They were sad.

"Katie," he began, "I have some news."

Beckett raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Good news or bad news?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Depends on how you look at it." He stirred his coffee absently while he gathered the strength to go on. "While I was in Michigan, I was offered a job. You know how much I love New York, but this is the kind of job that you don't turn down. I would be the Assistant Director of the Adult Cardiac Surgical Division at the University of Michigan Hospital. And it's a teaching hospital, so I would get to be a professor if I wanted."

"You've mentioned you would love teaching," she said. An awkward silence followed. "So you'd be moving to where?"

"Ann Arbor, or somewhere nearby. It's a little ways outside of Detroit." His voice quieted. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to move with me, would you?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Josh." She intertwined her fingers and rested her forearms on the table. "But I can't let you turn this down. This is a big deal for you. Aren't you pretty young for a job like that?"

"Yeah, I am. That's why it's such a great opportunity. But Kate," he said, reaching across the table to put his hands over hers, "if you tell me to stay, I'll stay. I would do that for you—for us."

She wondered at what point he had fallen in love with her. It was obvious that he had. He had fallen hard and she couldn't figure out when it happened. But looking back, she couldn't pinpoint a time when she had fallen in love with him either. There was only one major problem there; she couldn't remember falling in love with him because she wasn't sure it had happened. Sure, she adored him, and she definitely respected him, but did that mean she was in love with him? She couldn't even bring herself to share the single most driving event in her life—her mother's murder. They hadn't really been dating that long, but it was obvious that Josh was ready to settle down and raise a family. She was definitely not ready for that and she was definitely not going to leave her job.

"Josh, you are a great doctor, and you deserve this job. But you know I can't—just pack up and leave all of this. This is my life. This is where my life will always be. And I won't ask you to stay for me." She sat back, pulling her hands from beneath his.

"Kate, I don't want to lose you. It's just a job and there will be other offers. I mean, I want to take it, but not if it means you staying here and us ending this relationship."

"I don't want to end this either," she said, not entirely believing herself. "But regret is a heavy emotion. You'll have it whether you stay or go, and I really think that it would be worse if you stayed." She took a deep breath, prepared her heart for the wrenching it was about to get, and continued. "Maybe it would be best if we just said our good-byes and kept the relationship a fleeting, happy moment in time for each of us."

The server took an opportune moment of silence to slide the check onto the table. Josh just shook his head slightly, as if he was still surprised at the outcome of their discussion. He reached into his jacket pocket and slid a credit card into the little tray without looking at it. Kate sipped her coffee and took another bite of chocolate torte, feeling the weight of what had just happen settle on her like a lead blanket. And she felt a tear creep its way to the corner of her eye.

The server was back in the blink of an eye with the receipt and, again, Josh settled it without really looking at it. "Is this really it, Katie?" he asked.

She could see his resolve shattering and felt the sudden urge to escape. "I think it is, Josh. If you ever need anything, you know where I'll be."

He nodded. "The precinct," he said, matter-of-factly. A smile crept onto his lips.

She chuckled. "Of course. Where else would I be?" She paused for a beat. "I mean it, though."

"I know. The same applies to you."

They stood in unison. Josh snagged her hand with his as they walked to the door. She let him hold it, and let him step close to her one last time once they got out to the sidewalk. He nudged her backward until she felt brick at her back and kissed her. She kissed back, drinking in her heart surgeon before she let him walk out of her life. He pulled away slowly, reluctantly, and she ran a hand down his chest to rest over his heart.

"Keep in touch," he said quietly. He backed away from her and headed down the street.

She watched, smiling as he turned to glance at her before turning the corner and disappearing into the night. Once he was gone, she pushed herself away from the wall and turned away to get her car. She held a hand to her lips the entire block back to the vehicle. Only then did she let the tear slide down her cheek. She tilted her head back as more streams followed the first. She thought then that maybe she had been in love with him—just not enough for it to be forever.


	24. At Last

**A/N: This chapter was, well, difficult for me. I haven't written much from Booth's perspective and I find him the hardest to write. But it was time to take that challenge on. I'm going on vacation this weekend so I plan to have another chapter before I leave and write one more while I am away. I make no guarantees, but I will certainly try.**

**For those of you missing Castle, don't worry. I'm missing him too. He'll be back next chapter. **

* * *

><p>Booth woke up to darkness and a warm body curled into his side. As soon as he realized he was awake and not dreaming, he was flooded with emotion. They were finally what he had wanted them to be for so long. He was so happy just to hold her against him and know that she was ready for this relationship. He looked at the clock near the bed and saw that it was already past midnight. He wondered if he should wake her, feeling that maybe they should talk about everything that had happened over the last five hours. He adjusted slowly so that he could see her face better. She didn't wake at the slight movement, and he settled in to look at her until he fell asleep.<p>

And then his stomach growled. He expelled a breath angrily at the noise, but it was too late—she made a slight moan and began to move, her eyes fluttering open and her tongue moistening her sleep-dried lips. "Booth? What time is it?"

Relief hit him like a ton of bricks. He wasn't sure why he was concerned she would wake up and be angry or upset or—heaven forbid—frightened, but he realized he had been. She knew where she was and she knew who she was with. And by the way her unclothed body brushed his as she stretched, she definitely knew why.

"Booth?" she asked, "Are you awake?"

Her words broke his thought process. "Yeah, Bones, I'm awake. It's just after midnight. Go back to sleep." His stomach rumbled again.

"Based on the borborygmus coming from your abdomen, and the fact that we never finished dinner, I would suggest that you eat something. Since I am feeling hungry myself, I think I'll join you instead of sleeping through."

"Did you just tell me I have a boring moose in my abs?"

She chuckled. It was a warm, bubbly noise that he never took for granted when he heard it. "Borborygmus, Booth. It means your stomach was rumbling." She sat up and wrapped the comforter around herself loosely, slid off the bead and headed for the table where the discarded Thai food and beer still sat. She flicked on a small lamp and he could see the long trail of their clothing, scattered like breadcrumbs from the window to the bed.

He watched the genius he had fallen in love with snatch a container of food and fresh chopsticks. She tucked her now room temperature beer in the crook of her arm and sat on the small couch in the sitting area before turning on the TV. He could tell she knew he was watching her eat, but ignored him. "Wait for me, Bones," he finally said. He pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his hips. Grabbing the rest of the food, he sat next to her on the couch and dug in. He rolled his eyes at the National Geographic documentary that she had turned on and snatched the remote control from her lap.

"A cartoon?" she asked when he had settled on late-night reruns of Family Guy.

"They're very blunt, Bones," he said around a mouthful of food. "I think you may like it. Geez, this stuff is even good cold." He took another bite out of his own container before reaching over and taking some of hers as well.

She glared disapprovingly but didn't say anything. "I told you Rick said they were the best Thai in New York. Didn't you believe me?"

"I believed you. I didn't believe him."

"Don't make me explain again that Rick and I are not together."

"No, Bones. I get that now. But you'll still need to give me some time to get to know him for myself."

"Okay. Promise you will try."

"I promise."

She nodded and took a sip of her beer before turning her attention to the television. "Dogs don't talk."

He sighed. "Yeah, well, neither do babies. The show is still funny though." He reached over and dragged her face to his for a kiss. The smile she gave him when they broke apart had him placing both of their containers of food on the coffee table and heating up for another round between the sheets. He would have to get her to watch Family Guy another time.

An hour later, back in Booth's bed and finally drifting down from the clouds and off to sleep, Brennan sat up quickly. Booth groaned. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned by her rather violent movement.

She turned to him. "I think I may know why Max Avery was killed."

"Bones, it's almost three in the morning. Can this wait until morning?"

"No, I need your laptop. Or we can go to my room. I'll need Hodgins and Cam to run some tests first thing."

"Plus, I bet you won't be able to sleep until you get a look at the remaining parts of Max Avery, will you?"

"No."

"Okay, let me get dressed. Why don't you head back to your room and I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes with coffee and breakfast?"

"Thank you, Booth," she said. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss before practically vaulting herself off the bed and redressing one strewn article of clothing at a time. He watched her body move from panties to bra to pants as she made her way to the window where he had first removed her blouse.

"Please tell me you haven't been thinking about the case all night," he whined. "Not while we were—you know," he said suggestively before his words trailed off.

"Booth, you know very well that you were keeping my brain occupied for most of the night. I find that I often process things in the time right before I fall asleep and right after I wake."

When she sat to put her shoes on he finally pulled himself from the bed and snagged boxers and a t-shirt from his suitcase. He reached an arm out to pull her to him as she reached for the door. He held her body to his, forehead to toes, and kissed her slowly before letting her go. "Fifteen minutes," he said. "You want to share this theory before you dive in?"

"Drugs," she said simply, and was gone.

"Drugs," he repeated to himself. "Better call Beckett." He slid out his phone and winced as he dialed the number. Even he hated getting a call like this at three in the morning.

While he waited for her to answer, he pulled jeans and a black t-shirt out of his suitcase. When he heard her voice he hit the speaker phone button and tossed the phone on the bed so he could talk and get dressed.

"Beckett, it's Booth."

"Booth? What's up? Did Tempe find something?"

He smiled at the loud yawn she didn't bother to hide. "She thinks she might have. She already headed back to her room here at the hotel and I'm meeting her there with breakfast. I think you might want to be in on this." He slid a belt around his hips and buckled it.

"Yeah, I do. Give me half an hour."

"You want coffee?"

"What time is it?"

He winced again as he told her. "Three."

"Then yes, coffee would be appreciated."

He grabbed his jacket from the back of one of the chairs and shrugged into it. "Okay, I'll see you in a bit." Right before he hit the end button he heard her voice again and stopped.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you say Tempe was heading _back_ to her room?" When he didn't respond, she asked another question. "So what was Tempe doing in your hotel room at three in the morning?"

He mentally swore at himself for the slipup. "Oh, I didn't answer my cell, so she came down the hall and knocked until I woke up. Then she headed back to her room once we had a plan." He wondered how obvious the lie sounded.

"I see. Okay, I'll see you two soon."

Based on her tone, the lie had been way too obvious. He heard the line disconnect. "Oh, hell," he muttered. "I'm in for it now." He dashed out the door and down to the lobby to ask for directions to the nearest 24-hour coffee shop.


	25. Odd

Castle waved a good-bye to Brennan and Booth as he held the hotel room door for Beckett to step through. Though he had immediately regretted answering the detective's phone call at three in the morning, he did not anymore. The little impromptu meeting about Brennan's new theory had been—oddly interesting. Being a writer, he figured he should be able to come up with a better word than odd, but simplicity to its core was sometimes the right way to go. Idiosyncratic didn't work because to anyone else there wasn't anything peculiar happening. There was just something about the last two hours that seemed—yeah, odd. He considered himself victorious, though he had no real proof that it was true.

"Breakfast?" Beckett asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Please."

Castle let his thoughts and impressions swim around while they drove to a little diner near the precinct. It was a cop hangout, as was obvious by the dozen or so uniforms that had just gotten off duty and were recounting their nights to each other. Beckett nodded to a couple of them as they went to their usual booth in the corner. Castle slid into the booth first, facing away from the door and windows of the diner. He had learned a long time ago that it was Beckett's nature to see what was coming—and that included always being able to see the door of the establishment in which they were seated.

Before they could even open the menu they each had a cup of coffee placed in front of them by Evelyn, the early morning waitress with the memory of an elephant.

"Morning detective, Mr. Castle," she said, her pen poised to write down an order she already knew by heart.

"Please, Evie, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Ricky?" he asked, laying on all the charm he could muster with only three hours of sleep under his belt. He chuckled when both women rolled their eyes.

"Spinach and feta omelet for the detective and french toast for the writer, correct?" Evelyn asked. Before they could say anything else, she continued. "And a croissant to split."

"Bless you, Evie," Castle said.

As she flitted off to give the order to the kitchen, they tucked their menus back into place behind the condiments. Castle got to work on his coffee like it was a science experiment until it tasted just right. Beckett sipped hers black. When Castle got to work stacking the single-serving half and half cups, he figured it was time for the question he had been dying to ask since they left the hotel.

"So, did that whole meeting seem a little odd to you?"

"Odd?" she asked.

"Yes, odd. Was there something going on?" Castle knew there had been, but wanted to see if Beckett agreed with him.

"I don't know. What did you think was going on?"

"I saw two people who were trying like hell to act like they didn't have a whole lot of sex and one person who was significantly quieter than usual when discussing one of her cases."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Castle."

"Which part?" She was clever, but he would wheedle something out of her.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you not notice one, the other, or both?" He waited while she took a sip of coffee and stared him down over the mug. "Why don't I be more specific? Tempe and Booth kept leaning into each other, then making eye contact and immediately backing away. Booth kept putting a hand on her shoulder and then removing it. Every time Tempe touched Booth in any way, he swallowed instinctively. Did I miss anything?"

Beckett pulled her arms off the table as Evelyn set their plates down in front of them. She took a bite of her omelet. "Every time she looked at you, she smiled."

"Huh?" Castle said around a bite of French toast.

She set her fork down a made eye contact. "You asked if you missed anything. You did. Whenever you two made eye contact, she smiled at you."

"Ah, of course. That's because she knew my plan had worked. It wasn't as direct as I had intended, but it did the job." He said everything matter-of-factly and continued to eat.

"You had planned to make him angry at her to get them together." She rolled her eyes. "You hadn't even realized why the story you told had made him angry!"

He beamed at her. He didn't say a word and let the information settle on her, getting back to devouring the food in front of him. He loved watching the realization dawn across her face. This time did not disappoint.

A sharp intake of breath proceeded the volley of words that came flying across the table at him. "You lied to me! Castle, I cannot believe you! You pretended that you had no idea why your little story made Booth angry when that is exactly what you had intended to do. What exactly did you tell Tempe when you went in to 'confess' to her what you had done?"

"Oh, I told her what I said. She told me that it was a somewhat unorthodox approach, but that maybe she could make it work. Obviously she did—and obviously it was thanks to me." He puffed up his chest and put on his proudest, least humble smile. At her glare, he deflated. "I lied to you for a good cause, you know. You have to admit that I have some pretty good acting skills."

"Don't do it again, Castle." She punctuated each word with a stab of her fork in his direction. "Lying to a police officer is a crime, you know."

"I wasn't on the record, was I?"

"Shut up."

That earned her a smile. He ripped the croissant in half and pretended to be otherwise engaged when he nonchalantly posed the next question. "So, why were you so quiet?"

"I wasn't being quiet. I was listening. There's a difference, Castle."

"See, you think I don't listen, Beckett. But, I do. I know there's a difference, which is why I am asking you why you were so quiet. I didn't ask why were you listening so hard." He hoped that would earn him an eye roll.

She didn't deliver. She didn't even say anything. She just sat quietly, trying to gather her words. When she finally did, she again set her fork down.

This kind of behavior from Beckett made Rick nervous. He set down his fork as well and gave her his full attention.

"Josh is moving to Michigan for a job." She paused. "I'm not going with him."

The Castle inside cheered raucously. His face showed no excitement though. "Oh," he simply said.

"Yeah. It was an amicable split."

"Well that's something, then. As much as it may hurt, there's no anger."

"Little to none, yeah."

He let the awkward silence hang there for a couple of minutes before he said anything. "Kate, I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Castle."

"Hey, do you want to come over to my apartment for dinner tonight? My mother is cooking, and it is sure to be quite an event."

She cracked a smile and chuckled. "Come on, Castle. You just want an extra person to help clean up after her."

"What? No, of course not. I just want you to be able to enjoy a delicious meal in good company." He made sure his face was showing mock innocence.

"Right," she said sarcastically. "But you know what? I'd love to come over for dinner."

"Really? Cool."

"We should invite Tempe and Booth," she added.

"Oh, that's a good idea. Nobody can smell a hidden relationship as well as mother. She'll get them to spill the beans."

"That's not what I meant, Castle."

He smiled gleefully. "I know, but it will work out perfectly!" Finished with his food, he pushed his plate away from him and hopped up with the check in hand. As he paid, he watched Beckett pull some cash from her jacket pocket and set it on the table for a tip. He saw the sadness in her eyes, but he was glad that it wasn't overwhelming. Josh was a good guy in his eyes, even if, in his opinion, the relationship had nowhere to go. Maybe some extra Rick-and-Alexis-Castle-time was just what Kate needed to get back on the horse.

She waved at some of the cops as she walked to meet him. "Ready to go?" she asked Castle.

He nodded and put on his cop voice. "Let's go bust some drug dealers."

Her laugh echoed down the street as they exited the building.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What's this about drugs? Beckett actually told Castle about Josh? Brennan and Booth suck at hiding their relationship? Dinner with Martha at the helm? Doesn't it all sound like disaster waiting to happen? Of course! That's the fun part!**

**I stuck to my goal of another chapter for you guys by the end of the week. I plan to write at least one more while I am away. Whether or not I can post anything depends on the strength of the internet connection where I'll be. It's not trustworthy, but it has had its moments of triumph.**

**I really want to thank everyone who still reads. And thank you to those of you who reviewed my last chapter. When it's tough to write, and even tougher to put out there for all to read, it really helps when there is some positive reinforcement. I appreciate each and every one of you who reads my story.**


	26. Pain

**A/N: As usual, I was a little too ambitious on my writing schedule. I was so proud of myself for turning out a chapter before vacation that I was certain I could write another one while I was _on_ vacation. Wrong. I was very wrong. Perfect weather and a crystal blue lake (along with some local winery visits) made sure that my laptop got opened exactly once-and not a word of this story was written.**

**So it took me awhile, but here's chapter 26. I've already started chapter 27, so I'm not allowing any excuses on my part. It will be posted by the end of this week.**

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><p>Beckett's mood was sufficiently better by the time they met up with Brennan and Booth at the precinct. "If you hadn't insulted his intelligence, Castle, you wouldn't have gotten punched. That's all there is to it. Now stop whining, or I will refute whatever manly story you come up with to explain that bruise."<p>

"Insulted his intelligence? Beckett, how can you insult something that doesn't exist? He thought the line, 'To be or not to be,' was from _Forrest Gump_. As a writer it is my duty to correct ignorance like that." He looked pitiful with the ice pack on his cheekbone. He winced as he adjusted his grip on it.

"If you keep complaining about this I'm going to tell Ryan and Esposito, and then Booth and Brennan, that you were so busy looking at your own reflection in a store front that you ran into a street sign. You know they would believe me. Sit down, be quiet and maybe I'll bring you a fresh ice pack while I grab coffee from the break room."

"You always did have a way of explaining things so I could understand them," he replied, putting on his best Alabama accent. He smiled at his own joke, then winced again as pain lanced through his jaw.

"I'm not your mama. Sit still and I'll be right back." She walked to the break room with two empty mugs and started the lengthy process of making two double cappuccinos. She thought back to their early morning round-up.

They had come up mostly empty. Petey, the dealer who had been pretty high himself when he clocked Castle, had led them to Heeley. Heeley had mentioned, after Castle had provided a danish and coffee and allowed the man to howl in laughter at Petey's handiwork, that there was word of a dealer who was losing it. Heeley had heard the guy would get violent if he didn't get paid. Slice-you-into-pieces violent. Apparently in a way that frightened even the other dealers. In Heeley's words, "There is crazy from doing too many pills, and there's crazy that makes you see red." Nobody knew who it was, but word on the street was that it had gotten worse over the years and that the guy never—ever—got caught. None of the dealers they talked to remembered a rower needing pain pills. After this long, Beckett wasn't surprised.

She poured milk into the two cups and grabbed spoons. Balancing them, she pulled an ice pack out of the first aid kit and tucked it under her arm for Castle. She glanced back at her desk and saw Brennan talking to Castle with Booth standing slightly behind her, listening. Figuring it was something she should be in on, she motioned to Ryan and Esposito as she breezed back to her workspace.

"—seems like there had been drug use for at least a year prior to his death," Brennan finished as the three detectives circled around the desk.

"Whoa, drugs? When did we get to drugs?" Ryan asked.

"This morning," Beckett replied, setting the cappuccinos down and taking her seat. She cracked the ice pack over her knee to get the chemicals mixing together, gave it a shake and handed it to Castle. "Let's get Ryan and Esposito up to speed here." She deferred to Booth as Castle discarded the old ice pack and winced again when he placed the new one to his colorful bruise.

Booth crossed his arms over his chest. "This morning Bones here had a bit of an 'a-ha' moment. What it boils down to is that Max Avery was probably using street drugs to control the pain caused by his condition. When we checked with the Jeffersonian, Hodgins and Cam saw evidence in the samples that he had been using painkillers for over a year. It's not conclusive, but it's a strong lead." He motioned to Beckett and Castle. "What have you got?"

"We didn't get much more than rumors and a lovely shiner for Castle here. But there is word going around that there is a dealer you don't want to mess with. He sees red, gets overly violent when he doesn't get what he wants. And he apparently never gets caught. Rumors have been getting more consistent. I figure we have a dealer who is losing his mind and leaving a trail. We just have to find him."

"That where we come in?" Esposito asked.

Beckett nodded as she sipped her coffee. "Use whatever sources you have and see if we can track this dealer down any further."

"We'll get on it," Ryan added, and the two went back to their desks briskly.

"That brings us to our next agenda item," Booth said.

"We need to get back to D.C. I need to be back in the lab to process the rest of the evidence in a timely manner."

Castle sat up, still cradling his face with the ice pack. "You have to leave?"

Brennan nodded. "I'm sorry, Rick. I work best in my own space and it seems that we need to get all the evidence processed quickly to see if it leads us to anything new. With Angela in and out because of the coming baby, and Hodgins taking time to be certain she is comfortable and cared for, the process at the Jeffersonian is slowed a bit. They need me there to assist in any way I can."

"We'll finish up today and head out tomorrow morning." Booth leaned back onto the desk behind him, hands on his hips. "Bones can do twice as much back home, and with three detectives working the case from here, it shouldn't slow anybody down."

Beckett watched Castle's face turn to annoyance when Booth left him out but he said nothing. Beckett leaned forward with her elbows on her desktop. "That makes sense, you two. We'll have to set up some mode of reliable communication so we can be in touch constantly."

"The Jeffersonian is set up for electronic linking. We'll set up video call feed and data transfer lines before we head out," Brennan replied.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Castle filled the vacancy after a few moments. "Well, my mother is cooking a feast tonight and we were planning on asking you two over anyway. Let's make it a temporary 'farewell' dinner before you head out in the morning. Beckett will be there, as will Alexis. We'd love it if you would join us."

Beckett nodded in agreement.

"Of course, Rick," Brennan said. "That would be a good opportunity for me to introduce Booth to Alexis and Martha. What time would you like us over."

A slight panic washed over Booth's face before he got control.

"Seven o'clock," Castle told them.

"Sounds great," Booth forced out.

"In the meantime, let's all get back to work," Beckett said, logging in to her computer and going over the new information that had come though overnight.

Brennan and Booth went back to the conference room. Beckett noted through her eyelashes that Booth's desk was now empty and he had moved his equipment in with Brennan's. She smiled and looked over at Castle. She rolled her eyes as he tried to drink his cappuccino and hold the ice pack to his face at the same time. Coffee dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt.

"Damn it," he said. The pain that coursed through his jaw at the word caused him to hiss out another couple of swear words. Eventually, he pouted as he whimpered in defeat.

"Would you like a straw?" Beckett asked simply, her eyes back on the screen in front of her as she typed.

Castle just glared at her.

Several hours later, Beckett stood in front of her bedroom mirror with several outfits laid out on the bed. She held each up to her frame in a vain attempt to find something to wear that was befitting of a Martha Rodgers dinner extravaganza. This dress was too fancy, that skirt belonged at a country club event, and those pants just looked like she was going to court. She went through each option twice and sighed. She wondered how she never seemed to have the right outfit when it came to spending time with Richard Castle. She spotted an old sweater in the back of her closet and inspiration struck. The off-white sweater had belonged to her mother and Kate had practically lived in it during the month after her mother had been murdered. It had a wide neck and a little bit of bagginess to it. She pulled on chocolate brown leggings and tugged the sweater on over them. It came to the middle of her thighs. A wide brown belt around her waist cinched in the extra fabric. A pair of strappy heels and she was out the door.

Nothing felt off until she reached the loft's door. Her hand in a fist, prepared to knock, Kate stopped as nervousness made her stomach roll. She wondered what in the hell was going on in her brain. But a moment of quick thinking and she hit upon the fact that she was single. She was going to Castle's place for dinner—and she was single. She wasn't entirely sure why that mattered so much to her stomach, but thinking about candlelight and wine with Rick made her anxious. She was excitedly anxious, certainly, but it was still anxiety that had a grip on her.

She shook it off. This was not a date. It wasn't even a double date. It was a nice dinner with friends.

The elevator ding from down the hall had her hand back in knocking position quickly. A glance toward the sound gave her a perfect shot of Booth and Brennan stepping off the elevator hand in hand—then immediately separating at the sight of her while Booth cleared his throat. As she knocked firmly on the door with a sly smile twitching on her lips, the sound of a stack of pots crashing to the ground came from within the apartment. Beckett shook her head from side to side. As a flour-covered Richard Castle opened the door, she felt her heart flutter for a moment and then still. Anxiety aside, she decided to enjoy what would certainly be an entertaining night.


	27. A Lovely Fiasco

Booth was having a hard time processing that he was kissing his partner in an elevator. He wasn't really sure if that was due to the concept being unbelievable or the fact that his mind was already imagining doing a lot more than kissing. The ding as the doors slid open smoothly had Tempe pulling away from him. He held back a little as she tugged him out of the elevator by the hand. He looked side to side at the elegance of the building's interior. He also noticed a dressed-down Beckett standing at a door several feet away, her hand poised to knock on the door, looking at them. Booth felt Brennan's hand disengage from his at the same time he let go of hers. He cleared his throat, which had suddenly become very dry.

He knew Brennan could sense how uncomfortable he was. She stepped closer to his side as they walked to the now open door where he assumed Castle stood, welcoming Beckett in. "Don't worry, Booth. It won't be nearly as bad as your thoughts are leading you to believe," she said.

He took a deep breath and automatically rested a hand on the small of her back as she stepped into the doorway to greet Castle. One look had Booth almost breaking out in laughter. The writer was covered in flour and waved Brennan off as she went to hug him.

"Please," he said, shaking his head. "Please come in, but give me a moment to clean up before I officially greet anybody." Small puffs of flour fell from his hair and shoulders as he waved them inside and shut the door before disappearing into the vast loft.

Booth whistled at the sheer amount of space. He'd been in New York City apartments before, and this simply didn't compare. There were big windows and wood floors. The kitchen was enormous. Booth couldn't even begin to count the number of books that lined the shelves all around.

"Booth."

He shook out of his daze at Brennan's call. She and Beckett were next to each other, looking perfectly at home in this space. They'd both obviously been here before and had become comfortable with their surroundings. Brennan's jacket already hung on a coat rack near the door as though she'd put it there a hundred times before. He figured she probably had.

"Come meet Rick's family," she said, leading the way with Beckett toward two women in the kitchen. "Alexis, Martha, this is my partner Seeley Booth."

A petite red-head leaned across the island to shake his hand warmly. "Hi, I'm Alexis. It's nice to finally meet the famous special agent." She waggled her eyebrows at Brennan. "You'll have to excuse the mess. My grandmother and father had a bit of a collision that involved several pots and a bowl of flour."  
>"I told him to get out of the kitchen while I was working my magic," the older woman stated. She wiped a hand on her bright green apron before extending it to him. "I'm Martha Rodgers. I can see Temperance is much better at describing men on the page than verbally. Though I suppose she has described you already, in her own books, hasn't she?"<p>

"Martha, how many times do I have to tell you that Andy is not Booth?" Brennan asked.

"As many as it takes you to realize that he is. Come on, darling, at least Richard has the guts to admit that Nikki Heat _is_ our lovely Detective Beckett."

Booth heard Beckett mutter, "_Based_ on me. Nikki Heat is _based_ on me," under her breath.

Martha continued. "Well, I need to get back to cooking and I see the prodigal son returning to entertain you." She picked up a wooden spoon and brandished it at her son. "Richard, get some drinks for your company. And stay out of this kitchen or I'll do much worse than dropping flour on your head!"

"Yes, mother," Castle replied. He, Brennan and Beckett all chuckled. He turned to Booth. "We call her 'Hurricane Martha' when she gets like this. You'll enjoy it much more when you've had a drink."

Booth allowed himself to be poured a scotch and led to the living room. He hadn't really pictured Castle as a father—or an obedient son for that matter. But he found himself feeling that Castle himself was a balance of his mother and daughter. Martha was overly dramatic, Alexis slightly shy but according to Brennan extremely sharp. Castle himself had a flair for drama, and was obviously smart, and Booth found himself appreciating the man he had at first loathed. As he raised his drink slightly in time with the others, he made eye contact with the man sitting across from him. What he saw there pleasantly surprised him.

"So, Castle, did you and your mother raise Alexis?" Booth knew the question would raise eyebrows, but if there was one thing he needed to know about the writer, this was it.

"Not really. Mother only moved in with us a couple of years ago. I've had full custody of Alexis since she was a baby. I raised her here in the city. Her mother's on the West Coast. I can actually say that no matter how much I tried to mess her up, she somehow turned out perfect."

Booth wondered why he hadn't thought they could have something in common. The look of complete and utter love on Castle's face as he spoke about Alexis was all Booth needed to know. He made the choice to set aside the harbored jealousy over Brennan and accept the man in front of him as a friend. Maybe this dinner wouldn't be as much of a fiasco as he originally thought.

Castle couldn't say he was surprised when Booth asked about Alexis. Most people who met him couldn't comprehend him being a father. Not to mention a good father. He also knew that Booth had a young son, and that he didn't get to see him as much as he would like. Castle answered the question about his daughter honestly, knowing that was what Booth needed to hear. The peculiar look on Booth's face told Castle he had said the right thing. His face showed understanding when it had previously shown appraisal. A tension in the room released, and Rick sensed that he had finally proven himself worthy of the agent's friendship.

"And Alexis is exceptionally smart," Brennan added. "She just told me on my last visit that she could graduate high school early if she wanted to."

Castle saw Beckett cringe slightly in anticipation of Castle's reaction. He knew he was being overprotective, but he just didn't want his baby to leave him.

Brennan continued. "I have to say, though, that Alexis pairs her intelligence with a sense of compassion in a way that escapes me."

Booth elbowed her gently. "You just mean she isn't hyper-rational like you, Bones. That's because you are one of a kind."

Brennan eyed him quizzically. "Of course I am. Every human is one of a kind, Booth. And while a case could be made for identical twins, studies prove that the sense of self and personality can differ even in cases of genetic equality."

Castle's face slid into the grin he reserved for Brennan's quirks. He saw Booth shake his head gently and Beckett suppress a giggle.

Looking around, Brennan realized what she had said. "Oh. Well, I also wasn't implying that I was in any way disappointed by Alexis. I am actually impressed by her balance of intellect and compassion, and I wish I could have that balance myself."

Castle knew that deep down, this had always been one of Tempe's desires. But her rationality gave her an edge in her field, and she would never want to give that up. That dissonance was part of what made him want to protect her in the first place.

"Brain and heart, Bones," Booth said. "You have a balance of them too, you know? Your balance as an objective scientist is just different from that of a teenage girl."

"With writing and acting in her blood," Castle added. "Trust me, the arts run strong in her veins. It gives her a different edge than you, Tempe. Though I'd like to think that you had something to do with the intellect and intelligence side of things. She didn't have any other brainy influences like you." He honestly believed that. Without Brennan as a role model, Alexis may not have wanted to enter all those science fairs. Though he supposed he had had his own mad scientist-like qualities. For a writer, he got awfully excited by the words "liquid nitrogen."

"I would argue that Kate has been more of an intellectual role model over the last couple of years than I have," Brennan responded.

Castle couldn't tell if Beckett was surprised at Brennan's statement or scared out of her mind by it. Her face twinged a bit and her eyes widened slightly. He leaned forward a bit so he wouldn't miss any part of her response.

"I doubt that, Tempe. I mean, I've offered advice to Alexis when she's asked for it, but I can't imagine I've had any effect on her intelligence." Beckett turned a very light shade of red as she spoke, though her voice was even and clear.

"Dinner's ready!" Martha shouted, a full wine glass in her hand as she followed Alexis out of the kitchen and to the table.

Castle was sorry they wouldn't get to continue the conversation about the effects of the women in his life on his daughter. He had some choice words for Beckett on the matter that would make her a much deeper shade of red than Brennan had made her. One in particular that he wanted to say right now. He let Brennan lead Booth to the table, then touched Kate's elbow gently. She turned to him, the red still not quite faded from her cheeks yet.

"You're important to her. You have to know that. Alexis loves and appreciates you being there for her." The red rose right back to her face. She didn't drop his gaze, but her lips twitched into a nervous smile. "Plus, I happen to know that you've had an impact on her—she's learned that lovely thing you do with your eyes when I say something stupid."

She rolled her eyes instinctually.

He leaned in close. "That's the one," he whispered, then led her to the dining room. Based on the goose bumps his words had left on her arms, the evening could end up being very lovely for the two of them.


	28. Warmly Opposing Forces

Brennan watched from the table as Rick and Alexis put copious amounts of leftover dinner into reusable containers and smiled. Martha flitted around the kitchen behind them, putting the final touches on dessert and brewing coffee. Beckett slid one last dish of food over the counter to Alexis, then leaned against the island to chat quietly with her and her father.

From off to the side, she heard Booth's voice. "I think we were both right, Bones. It was a nice night, but damn if that whole group isn't out to get us to spill about—well, _us_."

"It was really just Martha, Booth, and that is just who she is." She leaned back and turned to look at him, joining their hands under the table and out of sight.

It had been a lovely dinner. But, Martha's mastery of leading a conversation was something that mystified Brennan. No matter how many times she or Booth had changed the topic to someone or something other than their relationship, it was artfully led right back around. Brennan had detected a large amount of amusement coming from Castle, and she was certain he had something to do with it. She was specifically confused as to how a conversation about making homemade yogurt had quickly turned around to become about a low, steady flame burning between her and Booth for the last several years.

"She's an evil mastermind, that one," Booth said, nodding toward the older redhead in the kitchen.

"Well, if you insist on hiding our relationship, we'll just need to come up with an engaging topic to talk about over dessert and coffee," Brennan stated. "Think of a case that was particularly interesting. How about Careful Lionel? I'm certain I've never told Rick and Alexis about that one."

She could tell Booth had stopped listening halfway through her comments. "Wait," he said quietly. "You don't think we should keep this quiet?"

"I think that we are far enough away from Washington, the FBI and the Jeffersonian, and in trustworthy enough company that it would not adversely affect us or our jobs."

"Really?" he asked.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I don't understand why you thought I wanted to hide it in the first place. I have no reason to hide it from these people. I trust Rick and I even trust Beckett, despite the fact that we haven't known each other very long. They won't say anything."

"But we can't tell our own friends back home?"

"I didn't say that, Booth, but there is obviously a line back home that is slightly blurred here. I'd go as far as to suggest that even if we told everyone back home, our working situation would no different than it currently is. Half of the FBI and all of the Jeffersonian already think we are dating. So if we really are, what difference would it make?"

Booth was quiet, and Brennan hoped that was a good thing. He was thinking about what she had said. When he had told her that he had slipped a clue out to Beckett and clumsily covered it up with a lie, she understood. After years of denying a relationship, it was logical that one's brain would simply continue doing it until it readjusted. She also knew that somehow Angela would look at her from across the lab when they returned tomorrow and simply know that she and Booth had had sex. Angela was very good at that. But so was everyone at the FBI and the Jeffersonian. They were trained to be observant, and she doubted that it would take long for a touch or look between them to be noticed.

Brennan felt Booth's hand release hers and focused on his face again, setting her thoughts aside. She felt the hand then cup her face and before she could move or say a word, he was kissing her. She figured he had decided it was okay to let the others in the apartment know they were together, and kissed back. Despite the fact that it was overshadowed by the four people watching, the kiss was passionate and romantic. She heard a whistle and some clapping coming from the kitchen, but she ignored it and focused on Booth. When he released her, her lips were numb and her eyes were closed.

"There," Booth whispered. "They know. There's no line here—not even a blurry one." He kissed her once more before withdrawing back to his chair.

"Hey, you two! My teenage daughter doesn't need to be seeing any of this stuff. She is way too young!" Castle shouted from the kitchen.

Brennan watched as Alexis and Kate rolled their eyes in unison.

"Oh, Richard, grow up. Alexis has seen you kissing several women like that," Martha said, waltzing back to the table and setting down a chocolate torte and a key lime pie. "I'm sure you have scarred her much more than this lovely couple ever could. That was lovely, by the way," she said to Brennan and Booth.

"Of course, we already knew you were together." Alexis followed behind her with dessert plates and fresh silverware.

"I hear you aren't much of a liar, Booth," Castle said, bringing in a tray with several cups of coffee on it.

As Beckett set down cream and sugar, Brennan could tell she was trying to look innocent.

"Yeah," her partner agreed. "I should have known better that to try and lie to a detective."

"Then you've learned your lesson. I learned that lesson a long time ago with this particular detective."

As Brennan watched Beckett roll her eyes once more, she thought about what the two men had just said. It sounded—friendly. She smiled and took a cup of coffee from Rick. As she was about to pass it to Booth, Rick handed him one. Booth nodded his thanks to the writer, who nodded back. Brennan wondered when the two men had decided to be friendly. It must have happened internally for both of them. She recognized that Booth had to have let go of what he had been holding against Rick. Deciding that she really did not understand the psychology of men, she settled for just being happy that two of the most important men in her life were no longer opposing forces.

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><p>As Kate settled into dessert, she found her thoughts wandering again, as they had been doing all night. But no matter where the thoughts started, they ended up at him. They would inevitably wind their way back to Richard Castle. He sat next to her, his arm around Alexis, and gleefully recounted the story of his bruised face. Of course, he was telling his own version of what happened, and she knew she would make no move to correct him. The conversation moved swiftly to Booth and Brennan working with Bunsen Jude, "The Science Dude." Brennan made sure to chuckle at the appropriate time, but her attention was elsewhere.<p>

Seeing Booth and Brennan together, and happy, obviously made her think about Castle. She could feel the energy between her and Rick as much as the rest of the world could—probably more. It was intense at times and it was gentle at others. But it was constant. She would say she was sick of ignoring it, but she had never _really_ ignored it. It had troubled her, from time to time, how easily he got under her skin. Her constant reminder to herself had been that she was with Josh, but that wouldn't work anymore. She could be with Castle. She could be a part of his family. She could be loved.

She was already loved, she told herself. Now it was about loving back.

The stories had run out and the conversation had run down. "I think it's time for us to get going," Booth said to the table. Brennan nodded in agreement.

Everyone at the table stood up in unison. Castle retrieved Brennan's coat and Booth helped it slide over her arms. Martha and Alexis gave Brennan a hug each, reminding her to keep in touch. After giving hushed words of advice to Booth, Martha went back to the kitchen for another drink. Beckett could only imagine what she had said, and judging by the surprised look on his face, Booth wasn't about to share. All the good-byes were said, with Brennan and Booth promising to call as soon as they started in the morning.

"I'll start the cleanup," Alexis said when the door was closed.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Castle said. "It's a school night, why don't you head to bed?"

"Okay, but I'll clear the table first," she countered.

"Deal."

Beckett pushed back the sleeves of her sweater and headed to the kitchen.

Castle put the leftover dessert into the fridge and joined her at the sink. "We'll have to do some of the bigger dishes by hand," he told her. "Some of it won't fit in the dishwasher." He turned on the water and plugged the sink drain before adding soap and a couple of platters and bowls.

"Well, good night, and good luck," Alexis said to them, sliding the last of the dirty plated across the counter.

"'Night, baby bird," Castle said, smiling.

"Good night, Alexis." She watched the girl climb the stairs to her room and heard the door close. "Towel?" she asked Castle.

"Second drawer to the left of the fridge," he said.

She pulled two dish towels out of the drawer. She offered one to him, but he had already plunged his hands into the hot water. "Just drape it on my shoulder," he said nonchalantly.

Suddenly, she felt the nervousness return that had plagued her at his door hours before. She set her towel down and reached up to settle the other on his shoulder. Before she knew what she was doing, she was smoothing the towel down, one hand sliding down his back and the other down his front. His hands stilled in the water and she could hear him take in a breath sharply. She paused briefly, and looked down. "Castle," she warned, removing her hands and pointing at the sink.

"Oh, damn it!" he said, startled. The soap bubbles had risen so high that they were starting to overflow and pile onto the countertop surrounding the sink. He pulled his hands out of the hot water quickly to turn off the faucet, but only succeeded in flinging and sloshing water all over the kitchen, Beckett, and himself.

Beckett reached over and turned off the water. Her sweater had gotten wet, and she dared a look at Castle's state. As soon as she did, she broke out into laughter. He was standing in a puddle of soapy water. Suds lined his front from his waist down to his shoes, slowly descending to the floor. His face was speckled with water.

"This is so not funny, Beckett," he said, not moving.

She continued laughing. She let go of everything that had been on her mind and laughed at him until tears streamed down her face, adding to the wetness on the beige sweater. When she finally caught her breath, one hand on the counter for support, she saw he had turned his head to look at her. He had put his sad puppy dog face on, and she snorted again with laughter. She grabbed the towel from his shoulder, revealing a dry rectangle on his shirt. "Look," she said. "You're already drying."

"Not funny," he repeated.

"Here," she said, handing him the towel. She picked up the one she had previously set down and started wiping up the puddle around the sink, still giggling to herself. Her sweater would dry on its own.

A strong hand settled on her shoulder and turned her around. He met her eyes seriously. "You're not getting away that easy," he said, his voice low and slightly husky. He put his other hand up to her shoulder, then let them slide down her arms slowly. His eyes followed the downward movement of his arms, taking in her chest, hips, and legs, then swept back up to her eyes.

She had a moment of clarity and made a decision. When he kissed her, she was going to kiss back. She was going to let go. She saw his arm muscles tense to prepare to pull her to him. He tilted his head back.

Rick pressed her length to his quickly, and a squelching noise filled the kitchen. Her face hit his chest with a splat where the wet spot began, and she cringed at the sudsy wetness that immediately began to soak through her outfit.

"Castle!" she squealed, but he held her tightly to him. She forgot about her plans to kiss him back and thought swiftly of several ways to kill him.

"Oh, Beckett, am I getting you wet?" he asked with sarcasm lacing his words. He let her go and took in her now soaked and soapy form. "Oops."

"I'm going to kill you, Castle."

"And I'll die happy, Detective," he replied, smiling.

She smiled back with a dangerous glint in her eye, then scooped up a pile of suds on the counter and set them down on top of his head. "Nice hat," she said devilishly.

"Oh, it's on," he told her, sinking his hands back into the sink and grabbing bubbles. He threw them at her, and splashed her with water.

She retaliated by grabbing the spray nozzle from its holster, turning on the faucet, taking aim, and firing. She hit him square in the face, then moved down to soak his chest. She let go of the trigger and let the hose reel itself back in. He took a step toward her, more suds in his hands. She put her hands out to stop him and took a step back—off the rug and onto wet tile. Her foot slid out from under her and she lost her balance. Castle tried to grab her arms to steady her, and she grasped at the counter and his shirt. Before Beckett knew it, they were both down on the kitchen floor. Castle had somehow turned them as they fell so he wouldn't crush her.

Laughter rumbled through his chest. They had landed in a tangle of arms and legs, with Beckett's body more than halfway on top of his. "I said, 'It's on,' Beckett, not 'Take me down.' Geez."

She chuckled too, taking in the fact that neither of them had gotten hurt and were simply wet, soapy, and lying in a puddle on the kitchen floor. She let her forehead rest on his chest, feeling the laughter make his chest bounce and vibrate. When she looked up, he was looking at her oddly.

"What?" she asked.

"Welcome back." When her look questioned his statement, he continued. "I could tell your mind was somewhere else tonight. I'm glad I could bring you back."

"Oh."

They sat up simultaneously. Castle stood first, then offered a hand down to Beckett and helped her up. She pulled off her heels, for safety's sake.

"Come on," Castle said. "Let's get these dishes done."

An hour later they were dry and finished with the dishes. The kitchen, too, was dry, after ten minutes of wiping and mopping. Beckett had led Castle to the door, her arms laden with containers full of leftovers.

"Thanks for coming, Kate," he said. "And for the help with cleanup."

She shivered slightly at the sound of her first name on his lips. She could feel goose bumps forming on her arms despite the warmth that flooded her body, and remembered him having the same effect on her hours before. She decided he needed some payback. She took a step toward him, leaned in, and kissed his cheek slowly and deliberately. "No problem," she whispered, her voice low and still standing close to him. "Though for future reference, I prefer getting _wet_ somewhere other than the kitchen. 'Night." She stepped away and closed the door behind her. She heard a slight whimper and then the delightful sound of Castle's forehead hitting the door.

Despite still being damp, when she walked out of the building into the cool night air she was surprisingly warm.

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter went a little further into Castle/Beckett than I had intended, but I figured that would be okay. There will be plenty of Booth/Bones coming soon, but back in D.C. finally. Back to the case at hand soon as well.**


	29. Squints

**A/N: Well, I'm back. Sorry to leave you hanging for so long there. At least it wasn't a cliffhanger ending or anything on that last chapter. I've been really busy the past two weeks, most of which revolves around my job getting hectic and buying and beginning to move into a house. It takes up a lot more time than I anticipated. My usual lunch break wiriting periods have been used for catching up on e-mails and just resting. **

**I really thank all of you who are still reading my story, and still putting it on Story Alert and such. It means a lot to me. ****I'm already working on the next chapter, but I have a busy weekend ahead, so expect it up next week sometime.**

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><p>Booth and Brennan were back. Booth could picture Brennan already back at the lab, hunched over a light table on the forensic platform. He hoped she was having better luck than he was. Just because someone had a criminal record did not mean that they had an extensive FBI file. Kary Hewitt and Max Avery weren't exactly dangerous people. Sure, Hewitt had been busted for drugs a couple of times, but all the evidence showed that she had cleaned up her act. Max Avery was a college athlete who was in pain and looked for illegal and illegally obtained drugs to control it. Nobody knew except him and the team now working to solve his murder. Booth had gone over every detail he could find about the two and had found nothing that clicked. The only thing they had in common was a drug habit. He wondered how the squints were doing with the rest of the evidence.<p>

Fifteen minutes later he was strolling into the Jeffersonian. Brennan was leaning over a table, peering closely at something. Booth swiped his ID card and climbed the steps to the platform. "What do you have for me, Bones?" he asked.

She usually didn't look up at him when she responded, but this time was different. Her head tilted up to him, though her body stayed in its current position. She smiled at him broadly. Apparently the three hours they had been apart since returning to Washington had been enough to make her want to see him again. "Hi, Booth."

He smiled back. "Hi." A look at Cam and Hodgins, who were watching out of the corners of their eyes, shook him out of the daze her eyes had gotten him into. "Anything new from all of this?" He opened his arms to encompass all four tables that held remains.

Brennan straightened. "Cam is analyzing data sent from the New York and New Jersey morgues. She knew people at both, which made getting all the details of the cases much easier. Hodgins is going over particulates and running the mass spectrometer on the bones. Angela has anything that will assist with identification. I'm trying to figure out cause of death. So far, there isn't much." She put her hands on her hips and looked around her. "It doesn't help that two of the bodies are incomplete."

"Well, if they were dumped separately like the one, the rest of the remains could be spread out over a couple of states by now. Let's not expect to find the rest," Booth replied.

Brennan nodded. "We've gotten identity with less on previous cases."

"Cam?" Booth asked, hoping she would have something new.

"The best I have right now is some bruising on the tissue of victim three there. That is, the second to most recent victim. It looks like they were beaten pretty badly before dying and being chopped up."

"Or perhaps they died because they were chopped up?" Hodgins asked.

"Nope," Cam answered. "Definitely can verify that the chopping came after the dying."

Booth turned his attention. "How about you, Hodgins? You have anything?"

"So far, I can tell you is that the particulates on the body suggest they were all killed in different locations."

"Any common thread, Hodgins?" Brennan asked.

"Not on the bodies themselves. I'm going over the plastic bags next."

"Good." Booth put his hands on his hips, pushing the edges of his jacket back a bit. He didn't know what to do. He was certain that if he stared at his computer for another hour with nothing helpful on the screen, he would probably bash the thing to bits. He needed something to keep him busy while the squints did their work.

The sound of someone approaching the platform had him turning around. Angela, her stomach leading the way, stopped when she got to the bottom of the stairs. "Okay, people. I might have something, but you are all going to have to come to me. There is a good chance I will either throw up from the smell or sight of what is up there."

The three scientists on the platform looked up from what they were doing but hesitated to move.

"Now!" Angela called loudly, then turned and retreated to her office.

Booth hopped down the stairs at double time, only to have Hodgins sprint past him on the floor. He watched as Hodgins passed Angela as well, just making it to her office door in time to open and hold it for her. He thought he heard Angela mutter, "I can open a door, you know," to her husband as she waddled through the door. Booth took custody of the door so Hodgins could assist Angela in getting comfortable. He ushered Brennan and Cam in before stepping in himself.

"How are you feeling, Angela?" Brennan asked.

She sighed as she adjusted herself on the barstool Hodgins had dragged in front of the screen for her. "I'm fine. I mean, I'm huge and my due date was yesterday. But I'm fine."

Booth chuckled to himself at the heavy sarcasm that she had laced her response with. Angela looked like she was about to go into labor right here in the Jeffersonian. He doubted that she had ever been this uncomfortable in her life. Brennan looked slightly taken aback by her friend's tone, but stepped closer to her anyway. The agent decided to break the silence. "Well, Angela, what have you got?"

She pressed a couple of buttons on her touchpad and several images of bones flew onto the screen. "I'm comparing and contrasting the areas where the bodies were cut. Now, some show signs of stabbing, some show signs of chopping and there is one instance where it looks as if a saw was used. Cam has been looking for signs of injuries before death occurred. I have been focusing on injuries that either caused death, or were incurred after. Let's start with the stabbing." Several images flew off the screen and the remaining ones got larger. "Victims one, three, and four all show signs of stabbing. We know victim four, Kary Hewitt, was stabbed before being strangled. Asphyxiation was the official cause of death. Victim three, still an unidentified male, was stabbed three times in the tissue and bones that were recovered. Victim one, Max Avery, was stabbed once. Victim two shows no signs of stabbing. Again, since not all of the body was recovered, we have no way of knowing if there are cuts or wounds on the rest of the body."

"Can you tell if the same blade was used in all of the stabbings?" Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and stepped even closer to the screen. Booth could see her eyes squinting just a bit further as she scrutinized the images in front of her. Hodgins flicked his eyes toward the smile that formed on Booth's lips and the agent resumed his neutral face.

"I'm still running that. We'll continue on to the chopping." Images of stab wounds disappeared and were replaced with images of dismembered bones. "The dismemberment was—messy. My best guess is that an axe was used. The computer is still running that. What I can tell you is that whoever did the chopping got better at it. Max Avery's remains showed that it took several tries to fully sever the bones. Victim two had slightly less of that. Victim three it only took one hit to sever the bone at all of the chopping sites except one."

"He was getting used to it," Booth added. "He was finding it easier to set aside his disgust." This was definitely helping Booth form a profile of their suspect, but it was becoming skewed.

"So what about the saw?" Cam asked.

"Well that's the weird thing. In the case of victim two, the unidentified female, where there was no evidence of stabbing, I found several places where sawing had caused considerable damage to the bone."

"What kind of saw?" Brennan asked.

"Considerable damage like death?" Cam asked.

She took a deep breath. "I can't tell if it could be cause of death, but it looks like a circular saw of some kind. Based on the fact that none of the cuts actually sever anything, I'm going with a table saw of some kind where the blade is stationary." Angela rested a hand on her stomach and leaned back into the chair. Hodgins rubbed her back gently as everyone discussed the evidence.

"Why wouldn't you just use the saw to cut up the body? Why use an axe?" Cam questioned.

"We need to look into industrial shops with table saws in the New York City area. I'll narrow down age as much as possible on victim two. Hodgins, we'll need as much as we can get in the way of particulates and mass spec readings. We need to find out who victim two is." Brennan turned to her colleagues. "That has to be priority right now."

"You think he worked at the place where he was cut up?" Hodgins asked her.

"That's definitely possible," Booth answered for her. "Bones, I need to talk to Sweets about this case. Do you want to come?" As soon as he asked the question, he mentally smacked his forehead. He never asked her if she wanted to come with him anywhere. As awful as it sounded to him, he usually bossed her around. If they were going to keep their new relationship quiet, he would have to continue doing that.

"I can't, Booth. I have to narrow this victim's stats down. I'm needed here. I'm sorry." She stepped to the office door and turned. "Angela, when you have more on those cutting implements, upload it to the server for me. Let's all get back to work."

Booth watched her cross the expanse to the forensic platform and swipe her card before climbing the stairs. He turned back to the three squints still in the office only to be greeted with peculiar glances. Feeling uncomfortable, as if they could all see right through him, he loosened his tie. "What she said," he added, then strode out the door with what he hoped looked like purpose and determination.

Trying to ignore the haunting sensation that everybody knew about him and his partner, Booth booked it back to the Hoover. If Sweets confirmed his suspicion about the killer in this case, it would really clear things up. Not really thinking, or caring, about any patients that may be inside, Booth opened the door to the psychologist's office and stepped inside. Sweets was at his computer with his back to Booth, but turned at the sound.

"Agent Booth, you're back from New York. How was the trip?"

"Fine," Booth said, putting an end to the small talk before he let something slip that would give him and Brennan away. "I need you to help me with a profile. You up for it?"

"Of course. Why do you always cut me off when I try to make pleasant conversation?"

Booth raised an eyebrow at the doctor.

"Okay, okay. What have you got?"

Booth slid the folder onto the coffee table. "If I'm right, one killer and one cleaner."


	30. Narrowing it Down

Castle sat next to his partner in the conference room. Montgomery, Ryan and Esposito surrounded the two of them as they all calmly watched the screen in front of them. Brennan and her team were projected there in a live video feed. "As you can see," Brennan pointed out, "we were able to narrow down our search field based on the length of the femur and the pelvic bones. Once we added in the proposed field of work, it narrowed even further. We'll need you to do more detailed field work to narrow our search results even more. We have five possible victims here, but I am sending the two that are most likely to be the victim first."

Beckett leaned forward. "So you found saw blade cuts on the bone and were able to get a basis for identity?"

"We were able to suggest a new possibility. There is no guarantee that any of these women are the actual victim. Hodgins is still running chemical analysis to see if we can get you anything more."

"What will chemical analysis get us?" Montgomery asked.

Hodgins waved his hand from behind Brennan and she stepped back so he could be seen better. He stepped forward. "Chemical analysis can tell me exactly what her living conditions were. If there is a high amount of lead present, she could live in an old building where some lead pipes or paint is still in existence. Low levels of fluoride could mean she lived in an area where the water was not fluoridated. Potassium—"

"She ate a lot of bananas," Castle interjected.

"No."

"She didn't eat enough bananas?"

Hodgins gave Castle a look. "You get the point. What levels of elements in her bones and tissue can tell us a lot. But it can take a while to analyze everything. As soon as I have my results, we'll let you know if they will help."

"Alright. Thanks, Tempe. Do you have anything else?" Beckett was itching to get back into the field, Castle could sense it.

"Not at this time. We'll call when we do."

"Wait," came a yell from the Jeffersonian line.

"Booth has something," Brennan relayed to the New York City audience.

There was some audible fumbling as Booth made his way to the camera. Brennan, again, stepped back to allow him room. A slender man, who Castle was certain could be no older than sixteen, could be seen standing behind him. "I may have a bit more of a detailed profile for our perp. After we got the data from Angela about the different cut wounds on the victims, I went to talk to Doctor Sweets, one of our profilers at the FBI. Sweets, say hi to everyone." The slender man waved.

"Seriously?" Castle clapped a hand over his mouth quickly after the sarcastic word slipped out.

"Don't worry, we were all there once," said Booth pleasantly. "And we don't let him forget it."

"Sorry," Castle heard Beckett say, apologizing to both rooms for his outburst. "Please, Booth, continue."

"Both of us think we have two perpetrators here. We're both pretty damn sure there are two guys. One does the killing. The other does the cleanup."

Castle sat up straight and saw Beckett do the same next to him. They caught eyes briefly and smiled at their initial thought that had been confirmed.

"Sweets, want to step up to the plate here and explain?"

Castle saw the kid nod and clear his throat before stepping forward. Castle and Beckett simultaneously sat back to listen to the evidence that proved their theory correct. Psychology had always fascinated Castle, and as soon as the doctor stepped forward it was obvious he knew what he was talking about. As he sped through medical and neurological terms, the kid continued to impress Castle. For how young he had to be, this was an impressive amount of knowledge to be spewing without any notes. He made a mental note to get in touch with Sweets as a future psychological reference for his books.

Before he knew it, Brennan was signing off again, this time with the promise to send along the young doctor's findings as well. Captain Montgomery looked at his watch and gave brief, prioritizing orders before heading back to his office. Beckett stood and Castle mimicked her, leaning against the conference tale to face Ryan and Esposito.

"Were you guys expecting this or something?" Ryan asked when he saw the smug looks on their faces.

"Castle and I ran this theory on day one, but we had nothing to prove it and no evidence to go on. It took a back burner, but now it seems we hit the nail right on the head." Beckett crossed her arms.

"Multiple metaphors aside," Castle continued, "we thought it was like the frozen body case from years ago. One person murdered the woman and kept her stored in a freezer, another dumped the body. Why keep dead bodies for years and then finally dump them like trash? But now it's different."

Beckett nodded. "Now we've got one person, probably this psychotic drug dealer that has been spooking the other dealers, killing people and one person cleaning up after him."

"And getting better at it," Castle added.

"But why was he dumping a fresh body with some slightly old ones and one very old one?" asked Esposito.

The four stood silently as they played through scenarios in their head. Castle watched as Ryan's mouth opened and closed several times as he thought of and discounted theories. Esposito stood completely still, his arms crossed over his chest. Beckett stared down at the floor and her eyes flickered back and forth as though she was watching ants crawl along the tile.

"If he was dumping several bodies, wouldn't that imply that he was cleaning up for time missed? Wouldn't a cleaner usually be doing the cleanup as the murders happen?" Castle was the first to speak, and when Beckett's eyes flicked up to meet his, he could tell she was on the exact same page of the book as he was.

"He got behind," she said.

"Out of town?" asked Ryan

"More like in prison," Esposito said.

Beckett pushed off of the table she had been leaning against. "That's it. Find out who has recently been released from the area prisons. He had to have been in there since before Max Avery was killed. We'll cross reference with my old case that was similar, see if there was anyone we were looking at who later went to prison. But first, you two have to run down that missing persons list they are sending over from the Jeffersonian. Identity of our current victims is priority one."

"You got it," Ryan said as he and Esposito headed to the door. "We'll split it up, get it done quick."

Once they left, Castle turned to her. She seemed to be back in thought, trying to get something further out of their breakthrough. "Would getting those old cases back out and seeing if Brennan or Angela can do facial reconstruction be helpful? We need clues from back then and we might need identity to get them."

"She's got a lot on her plate already," Beckett countered.

"If there's one thing I know for certain about Tempe, it's that she will work 24/7 until she sees this case through. If we can determine there is a real link between these cases, she'll find time for it."

"Alright. But let's be absolutely solid on these cases being linked before we ask. We should start with the—"

"Blade marks," Castle finished for her.

She smiled at him. "Yeah."

A little flood of warmth ran through him at that smile. "Shall we?"

She nodded, but held his gaze a moment longer. "This is going to keep us here all night, Castle. Make sure you call Alexis and let her know."

"She worries so," he replied with a chuckle.

"And with good reason," she said, and pointed to the still swollen mark on his face. "I'll meet you at the murder board."

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><p><strong>AN: Later than I expected to post, and shorter than I had intended, but there is Chapter 30. Trying to find time to write is still keeping me behind, but I promise I won't give up on this story. We'll see it through til the end. As always, thanks for reading!**


	31. Date Night

Brennan scooped another mouthful of noodles out of the container and into her mouth. She and Booth were holed up in her office running through every little bit of evidence they could find. She had sent Angela home, but Hodgins had soon returned to the lab and was in his work area processing more data. Cam had been going through tissue samples, but was packing up so she could get home for dinner with Michelle. Everybody was doing their jobs, and still it seemed like hardly anything new was coming into the light.

"You know, Bones, maybe we need a break from this case." Booth's mouth was full of his own meal, but he spoke around the food anyway.

"I'd prefer to keep my mind on the case, if you don't mind. We'll find something."

"But getting your mind off something always works."

"There is no proof to support that. Just vague claims about how things suddenly 'come' to people."

"Oh, there's proof. I have some of my own that I know you cannot dispute." He had a grin on his face that made her smile.

"What?"

"The other night," he said simply.

"Which other night?" Brennan asked the question, but she knew the answer. She knew that silly grin on his face had to do with the night they had sex.

"The one where you ended up in my hotel room. Naked. And while you were laying there, drifting off into dreamland, you had an epiphany about the case. Right?"

"Dreamland is not a place, Booth. And while I agree that my mind was at that time finally done processing an idea that had obviously been ruminating in my neural pathways, it was not an epiphany."

"Ah, but you had to let that idea ruminate, right? And so it got handed back to the flunky processor while the rest of your brain focused on me. Naked." The goofy smile remained plastered on his face.

At this point, Brennan realized it was easier just to let him think he was right. "Flunky processor? Are you suggesting that I need to see you naked for something new to finish processing in my neural pathways?"

"Well I certainly wouldn't be against it."

"Alright," she said. She could definitely use a break. Her head was beginning to twinge and if she kept staring at miniscule print it would develop into a full headache in a matter of hours. At least if she went home with Booth she would not be staring at anything miniscule.

"I mean, if you'd rather—wait, did you just agree?"

"Yes. Since there seems to be a lack of true evidence on this subject, I propose we see if it can happen again." She took another bite of noodles and then closed the takeout box. She glanced up at him while she stacked files and put them in her bag. He was sitting with his mouth ajar, staring at her. She stood, slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her takeout container. "Aren't we going?"

She'd never seen Booth pack up his things that quickly.

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><p>Booth was entirely certain he had left some things in Brennan's office in his rush to catch up with her, but he didn't care. He was trying to stay as calm as possible, but he was itching to have his hands all over her. He walked leisurely around the SUV to the driver's side, barely containing the urge to sprint.<p>

A wave of guilt hit as he reached for the door handle. He should be more concerned about the case. As stunning a woman as his partner was, and as fantastic in bed as he had always dreamed she'd be, he should be able to keep himself in check. He'd been able to keep his hands to himself for six years. Now, he couldn't go two days without needing her. It was like she cast a spell on him. Of course, he knew what she would say about that. He even heard her scolding tone in his head.

"Your place or mine?" she asked as he buckled his seat belt and slid the key into the ignition.

Booth stopped the whimper before it could sound. "Mine." As they pulled out of the parking garage and into evening traffic, silence descended on them. They had always been comfortable with quiet, but in this case the tension was palpable. Booth was aware of every breath she took and every time she readjusted the way her hands folded on her lap. She began to fidget as he turned onto his street.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."

"What?" he asked her.

"Well, I'm beginning to think about the repercussions."

"Bones, you know we've done this already, right?"

"Of course. That's why these repercussions are particularly strong."

Booth was confused and concerned. He pulled into a parking spot and killed the SUV's engine before turning to her and meeting her eyes. "Where is this coming from?" he asked gently.

"Well, if this method of allowing my brain to process information provides results again, a problem arises. Every time we get stuck on a case you are going to insist that I see you naked and we engage in intercourse. While not altogether a bad thought, it could become quickly obvious what we are doing every time we have no leads and leave the Jeffersonian together."

He puffed out a breath in relief. "That's what is worrying you?"

She nodded. "What did you think was worrying me?"

He sighed and opened his door, hopping out of the seat and huffing around the front of the SUV to open hers. As he helped her out, he could tell she was waiting to hear what he thought she had planned to say. "I don't know, Bones. Maybe that you regretted getting together after all. That sex with me wasn't quite what you thought it would be. That you would get pregnant. There are a variety of options."

She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and followed him into the building. "First of all, I do not regret getting together. I specifically recall being the one that told you that I had made a mistake in saying no to you. But you were with Hannah. I wouldn't have waited if I thought that I would regret getting together. Second, sex with you is quite remarkable. I cannot believe you would have insecurities after our first night together. I experienced several—"

"Thank you," he said, interrupting her before she could finish her sentence in front of his elderly neighbor who was waiting for the elevator.

She gave him a disapproving look. "And to counter your third point, I am on a very rigid birth control schedule."

Mrs. Chapman gave both of them disapproving looks as she got on the elevator ahead of them. Booth rolled his eyes. For all that he was used to and enjoyed Brennan's bluntness, he recognized that others did not. He shushed her as the doors closed and thankfully, she remained quiet as the elevator ascended to Mrs. Chapman's floor.

Once the woman had left and the elevator doors had closed once again, Brennan turned to him. "I didn't make an inappropriate comment, you know."

"Mrs. Chapman clearly thought you did."

"I submit to the idea that the comment may not have been as commonplace in the generation she grew up in, but that doesn't make it inappropriate."

Booth knew he would lose this argument and chose not to respond. Instead, when the elevator doors opened, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hallway. When he reached his door, he spun them around before she could react and backed her into his door, pinning her there. As he pulled his keys from his pocket, he recognized lust wash across her face. He finally unlocked the door and she pulled him inside with her as the door gave way beneath her back. He chuckled to himself as he let his eyes close and his body surrender to the woman tugging him toward the bed.

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><p>Beckett took another bite of her now cold burger. Her eyes went in and out of focus as she looked at the murder board again.<p>

"If I have to read this paragraph one more time without actually retaining any new information, I'm going to punch something." Castle rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I know what you mean. I've got nothing." She dumped the last bite of burger in the trash can under her desk. Castle had finished his food earlier, and she was wishing she had too. Cold burgers were just not tasty.

"At least Ryan and Esposito narrowed down the list of victims."

Beckett leaned back in her chair and looked around the precinct. There was a pair of cops on duty still, but aside from that, she and Castle were alone. Everybody else had gone home hours ago. Ryan and Esposito had been out chasing down possible victims until 7:00 and when they called to say they were on their way back, she told them to just head home. She may have insinuated that she and Castle were doing the same. Unfortunately, she only did that so she could actually convince them to go home. They updated her on the phone before signing off. Of the handful of possible victims, there were three that still fit. A couple of people had incorrect information listed in their missing persons profiles, one had shown back up at home and not informed the police. Of those three, only two fit after they added the new information from Dr. Hodgins about mineral content in the bone and what it meant. They could sort out the differences in the two tomorrow.

"Should we just send this additional case information to Tempe? Maybe someone at the overstaffed museum laboratory can go through it and report back." She could sense that Castle was getting frustrated.

So was she. "No, we can't. But you know what? Let's get out of here for the night. I'll take some of this home in case anything hits me later and I want to double check." She motioned to the documents scattered across her desk.

"What if _I_ think of something later and need to double check?" he asked.

"I'm not making copies of all of this, Castle. There are four reams worth of paper here."

He raised one eyebrow. "Then I guess we'll have to go home together."

"In your dreams, Writer Boy."

"We actually do go home together in my dreams, Detective. I think it's time for my dreams to become reality."

She rolled her eyes at him. She would never tell him that occasionally it happened in her dreams too. When she wasn't dreaming of murderers and chasing bandits, she sometimes dreamt of Castle. She felt her face flush as she thought about it tried quickly to cover it up. "But we _could_ go get some late night pie and coffee and talk about it until our eyes cross. Once that happens, we'll actually go home. If you have an epiphany in the night, you can call me and I can cross-reference for you."

"Why can't you let me take home the official paperwork for once?"

"Because it's not allowed." She piled up all the paper on her desk and put several in her folio to take home. "Come on," she said, grabbing her jacket and phone and heading for the stairs. Beckett figured that if she was able to get her mind off the case, maybe she would think of something. She couldn't think of a better person to get her mind off a case than Richard Castle.

* * *

><p>Castle knew he should go home and say goodnight to Alexis, then write a couple of chapters before trying to get a good night's sleep. But when Beckett offered to go out for dessert and coffee, he couldn't say no. He also caught that cute blush that crept onto her face when he mentioned her being in his dreams. After that escapade doing dishes in his kitchen, his dreams had pretty exclusively focused on her, covered in water and bubbles. He figured that, on the upside, the fact that he hardly used hot water when he showered anymore was at least saving him money.<p>

"Hey Castle!" he heard from behind him. "Where are you going?"

He turned to see Beckett holding open the door to the diner. He had walked right past it. "Sorry," he said. "I was just thinking about something." He slid past her and into the diner, making a beeline for their booth. When they were settled, he glanced at her over the top of the menu. Her eyes were scanning the back of her menu, where the list of pies and other desserts spanned almost half the page.

"What?" she asked, without looking up.

That never ceased to amaze him—her constant awareness of her surroundings. She always knew where he and his attention were focused. Since he had been caught, he figured he could at least answer her question. "Well, usually I have to be the one that suggests getting out of the precinct when we are running low on ideas. Why did you do it this time?"

"My burger was cold and I really wanted coconut cream pie and crappy coffee."

"Beckett, come on. I'm not stupid." His heart fluttered when she set down the menu abruptly and met his gaze.

"What would you say if I told you that I needed to get my mind off the case and that you, Castle, are the person I turn to when I need to get my mind off something? Though the pie and coffee thing really does apply."

Castle's brain was working overtime. He considered that perhaps it had shut down entirely. It didn't surprise him, her statement, but it certainly wasn't something he expected her to own up to. He absently noted that his silence at her statement made a smile cross her face.

"Furthermore, I'm finding that the more time I spend with you outside of the precinct, the easier it is to become distracted."

That did it. That statement hit him right in the gut, a flicker hitting him slightly lower in his body than the gut, in fact. She had just told him, in her own, indirect way, that she liked spending time with him outside of the precinct. His brain calmed from its earlier, erratic pattern and he focused on doing exactly what she had wanted in the first place. "Beckett, you have no idea just _how_ distracting I can be. Not to mention, there are certain locations where I would excel at distracting you." Her face turned red. His mission was complete. When the waitress came over, he ordered for both of them.

As Beckett tucked her menu back into its place behind the sugar shaker and ketchup, Castle reveled in his success—and rubbed it in a little more. "Have I succeeded in distracting you yet? Because if not, there is a whole sink full of dirty dishes back at the loft that could use our combined ministrations."

"Just want to see me all wet and soapy again, Castle?"

Castle leaned forward, an eyebrow raised. "You have no idea, Detective. Of course, I remember you mentioning that the kitchen wasn't exactly your favorite location for such distractions, and I have an enormous, jetted bathtub." If she was going to flirt, he was going to flirt back. "Which is also prominently featured in my dreams, as I'm sure you are about to tell me."

Beckett laughed out loud as she dug into her slice of pie.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, it's about time. Despite the fact that I had a horrible day at work, I was finally able to finish this chapter. But I know that it has been entirely too long since my last post. I do really appreciate that people are still reading the story, and are being patient with me as the chapters get harder to write. I know I had previously said that the late night at the precinct was going to be overshadowed by case info, but this chapter just wrote itself differently. More case info soon, and we've still got a bit of a ways to go. As always, leave a review if there was something you loved _or_ something you hated, and tell all your friends!**


	32. Eureka

Beckett knew she was dreaming, but that knowledge surprisingly didn't wake her up as it usually did. She was walking through the scene of that old case, looking at the remains, just as she had years ago. It was bad, and the bodies were very decomposed. She held her shirt over her mouth and nose, but the stench penetrated the fabric. Crime scene techs swarmed the scene and the bright lights they had assembled to beat back the oncoming darkness were making it hot—unbearably hot. She heard someone call her name, and turned. As she started to walk toward them and away from the bodies, her foot slipped. She steadied herself, and noticed that the room had gone quiet and still. She looked down at the floor, but couldn't make out what covered it. Crouching, she dropped her hand and touched a finger to it. When she brought her hand back to her face, she recognized the grainy material. Sawdust. She loved the smell of sawdust, but the odor coming from the scene had masked it entirely. She stood again, and a glance around her showed that the ground was covered in it.

Her eyes snapped open as consciousness flooded her body. A light from another room illuminated her living room enough that she could tell where she was. She sat up from her cramped position on the loveseat to find that a blanket had been draped over her. She looked at her watch and could barely make out in the darkness that it was after 1:00 in the morning. She heard a quiet, scratching sound coming from her kitchen. It sounded like mice, but she knew that wasn't right. She pushed the blanket aside and stood, her muscles still slowly loosening from sleep. When she finally straightened, she could make out the hunched form of Richard Castle, sitting at her kitchen counter, taking notes by the light of her stovetop hood. "What are you doing, Castle?" she asked.

He looked up, clearly startled. "Oh, did I wake you? I'm sorry; I was trying to be quiet."

She shook her head at him as she walked toward the dimly lit kitchen. "Are you still trying to find something?" She looked around at the papers scattered erratically over the countertops and pinned to her refrigerator with magnets.

"Yeah. I was working in the living room with you, but you fell asleep. I figured you could use the rest, so I brought everything in here so I wouldn't disturb you."

"Do you have the initial report in there somewhere?" Castle shuffled through some pages before handing her one. She scanned the document, looking for the address.

"You think of something?" he asked her.

She spotted it quickly, but realized that an address didn't tell her much about the building itself. "I had a dream—well, I guess it was a memory—of this case. I was there, at this crime scene." She pointed to the address on the paper. "And I slipped on the floor while I was walking. I looked down and there was sawdust covering the floor. I couldn't smell it because of the decomp, but sawdust was everywhere."

"Sawdust," he repeated, and she could tell he was trying to figure out what that meant.

"Sawdust."

She saw the moment he made the connection as his eyes widened. "You think that was the same place that our sawed up victim worked?"

She nodded. "It's weird, because I don't remember the sawdust at all. I don't think I ever actually slipped or touched the floor back then. But I must have processed the fact that there was sawdust at some point or I wouldn't have been able to remember it at all. It was some kind of odd moment of clarity."

"Well, it's a good thing. I've been waiting for my own 'eureka' moment for the last three hours and I had nothing. I guess I should have let myself fall asleep with you."

She smiled at that thought, and remembered the night not too long ago that she had woken up curled into him on that same loveseat. "What are you still doing here, Castle? Why didn't you go home when I fell asleep?" Beckett hoped he didn't take that the wrong way. She was definitely glad he had been there when she woke up.

"I'm not allowed to take these home, remember?" he asked, motioning to the documents. "And I didn't think I was going to sleep for a while anyway, so I stuck around to keep going over things." He paused to yawn widely. "I wasn't going to last much longer though. I planned to put you in your bed and tuck you in before I left, if that wins me any points. I wouldn't want you to be mad at me when you were stiff in the morning from a night on a couch."

Beckett smiled. "Good boy, Castle. Maybe I'll let you have a treat for obeying my orders."

"Your wish is my command," he replied humbly as he pressed a hand to his heart and his head bowed.

Her eyes rolled automatically as she walked across the kitchen. She reached for the secret stash of her favorite coffee beans. They always succeeded in waking her up. "Let's get all this together. I'll make some coffee and we can be back at the precinct in half an hour. We have to check out those possible victims and, if my hunch is correct, give Dr. Brennan a call."

"Okay, but that better be some good coffee," he whined. "I didn't get a nap like you did."

"Trust me, it'll surprise you. And it tastes nothing like a monkey peed in battery acid."

Castle shuddered.

* * *

><p>Brennan sat up suddenly. "Hunched posture and high levels of glutamic acid decarboxylase antibodies." It was 1:30 in the morning according to Booth's alarm clock.<p>

Booth stirred at her motion and words. "What's that, Bones?"

"Sorry," she said to him. "I just thought of something."

"Epiphany?" he asked.

She looked at him skeptically. "Not an epiphany. A normal thought process that was drawn out due to the volume of information that I have retained over the years."

"The flunky processors pulled through for you, I see. What did you think of?"

"A connection that could help with the third, as of yet unidentified body. I need to go to the lab."

Brennan appreciated the fact that Booth was the type of man that could get up and go anytime it was needed. He was pulling jeans on by the time she was out of the bathroom. A t-shirt and leather jacket went on as well and they were out the door. A quick stop at her apartment allowed her to put on fresh clothes as well.

As they drove to the Jeffersonian, she couldn't help but notice the smirk he was sporting. "You aren't going to let me forget that you were right."

"Not a chance," he replied. "And all of our friends and coworkers are going to find out about us because we leave to have sex when you are stumped."

"I don't have a problem with them finding out about us. I'm more concerned that they may conclude that we are not doing our jobs because we are leaving to have intercourse when we should be working."

"You know, I'm going to stop talking about this now before we fight about it."

When she tried to continue, his arm reached out in the blink of an eye to cover her mouth with his hand. She slumped her shoulders in defeat and kept quiet.

"So, are you actually going to tell me what your epiphany was?"

"It wasn't an epiphany."

"Okay, your 'eureka' moment?"

"I don't know what that means."

"'Aha' moment?"

She glared at him.

"Just tell me what the hell you thought of that is making us drive all the way back to the lab in the middle of the night when I'm really tired from the intense amount of sex we had." His tone was laced with frustration, but she could tell he wasn't upset with her. He was smiling.

"Stiff Person Syndrome," she answered simply. That's what she had finally thought of earlier as she watched Booth sleep and reminisced on their night together.

"Yeah, the guy's dead. We already know that."

"That wasn't slang for dead, Booth."

She could see him thinking about something. "You're right; you would have been way more proud of yourself if you had used slang right."

She ignored him. "Stiff Person Syndrome, sometimes called the Moersch-Woltman Condition, is a disease that causes frequent, unexplainable spasms. While it is more prevalent in women, men can get it too. For many with the disease, they are people that hunch their backs a lot, such as someone who sits at a desk would. The spasms and stiffness begin in the back. I noticed a hunched posture in the male victim that we haven't identified. When I looked over the pathology report, I noticed that there was also a high level of glutamic acid decarboxylase antibodies. Cam doesn't usually look for something like that, but in this case there was enough tissue and since we had nothing on identity, she ran every test she could. Glutamic acid decarboxylase antibodies are often present in high levels in those suffering from Stiff Person Syndrome."

"They really call it 'Stiff Person Syndrome?'" Booth gave her a funny look, like she was lying to him.

"SPS for short," she replied.

He snorted and laughed. "It sounds like a disease name that a ten-year-old would come up with. Don't you doctors usually come up with unpronounceable gibberish for weird diseases?"

"I told you they also call it the Moersch-Woltman Condition." While Booth continued to chuckle, she went on. "Anyway, as I said, it is a rare condition, but there are some other factors I can check out at the lab. If they are present, we can run the information through the missing person database."

Booth had finally stopped laughing. Now, she saw the pensive look on his face. He was thinking about something on his end of the investigation now. Once she presented her information—in a way he could understand it—he always then took the time to apply that to his side of the case. Brennan loved watching him think. His face would stay completely still until the moment he made a connection. It would either light up in excitement, or contort into confusion. This time he contorted into confusion.

"What?" she asked.

"What connection does he have with the drug dealer? Everybody else was either doing drugs or a history of drugs. That connects them. How does this guy fit in?"

She knew that answer. "There is a common drug that is prescribed for SPS," she said. "It helps relax the muscles to prevent the spasms and seizures. Diazepam."

"What's that?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Valium."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Two chapters in one week? I feel like I'm back to normal. But don't get too excited. It's a big moving weekend for me, and I can't guarantee I'll be writing much over the next week or so. Please enjoy this, and let me know what you all think!**


	33. Stuffed Animals and Gummy Worms

By the time noon rolled around, Booth was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He got up from his desk and went to the break room for yet another cup of coffee. His body was using up the caffeine he had been pumping in much more rapidly now, and he was likely to drown in the FBI-issued, murky brown liquid if he drank much more. He contemplated closing all the blinds in his office, putting his feet up on his desk, and taking a quick nap, but with how fast the case had progressed since last night, he would probably miss something important. They had identified the remaining two victims, and Brennan, Cam, Hodgins, and a very cranky Angela were working on data and evidence from an old cold case of Beckett's that shared a crime scene, and possibly a murderer.

Booth shut his office door behind him, drawing the blinds just in case he nodded off. His computer was still whirring away as it analyzed more data than it could probably handle. Based on how loud the whirring had become, the damn thing would blast off into space in a few more minutes. "T-minus one minute and counting until takeoff," Booth muttered to himself as he plopped down into his chair. He glanced at his phone for what seemed like the millionth time, but there was no flashing light to tell him he had missed a call or had a message waiting. He hadn't heard from Brennan since he had left the Jeffersonian at 9:30. They probably hadn't finished analysis yet. Maybe they had and nothing came of it. Either way, everybody in that lab was most likely working as hard as his computer. After he finished his work, he would have an excuse to call or show up, but not before.

He gave the computer a slap of encouragement, and then jumped when his eyes glanced up to see Brennan standing in his doorway. He must be beyond tired and verging on walking dead if he didn't hear his own office door open.

"Why are you hitting your computer?" she asked.

"I wasn't hitting it. I was giving it a love tap."  
>"I don't know what that means." She shut the door behind her and sat down across from him. "Rick and Kate are working hard on their end to track down anybody and everybody the new evidence points to, but they only have so many team members. I think at least you should go back and help. I could go too, but I don't have to. I think they'll need your interrogation expertise."<p>

He could see fatigue in her eyes, and he was certain it was for the same reason it was showing in his own. "Do you want me to go?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. It would be best for the case."

"No, Bones. Do _you_ want me to go?"

"Oh, you mean as someone who is in a relationship with you? No, I suppose not. I'd miss you."

Booth smiled. Noticing that the blinds were still drawn, he motioned for her to come closer. When she got within range, he grabbed her wrist and yanked, pulling her down onto his lap. "I'd miss you too." He kissed her before she could say anything, then nuzzled into her neck.

"Booth, while I recognize that many people who work in offices have sexual fantasies about having intercourse on desks, I really don't think this would be an appropriate time."

"I'm not trying to have sex with you, Bones. Your shoulder makes an excellent pillow and I need a nap." He settled his cheek in the crook of her neck and closed his eyes. To his surprise, she didn't say a word. She simply slid both arms around his shoulders and let him hold her. He must have actually drifted for a couple of minutes because when her phone rang, he jumped. She calmly reached into her jacket pocket as he fumbled to maintain their balance on the chair.

"Angela, did you find something? Oh. Oh, yes. We'll be right there. I promise." She ended the call abruptly and got off his lap. "We have to go."

"Did she find something? Something big?"

"No, Booth, we have to go to the hospital. Angela just went into labor." 

* * *

><p>Booth parked the SUV while Brennan went into the hospital to locate Angela and Hodgins. As he dashed across the parking lot, he spotted Cam doing the same.<p>

"They're already here," she said as they approached the sliding doors together. "Maternity ward, room 1248."

Brennan was waiting inside, her phone to her ear. "I can't get a hold of either of them, and nobody knows where they are."

"Cam does," Booth told her, grabbing her hand as he followed Cam to the nearest elevator.

They rode the elevator in silence, with Cam slipping Booth meaningful glances every few seconds that told him she had seen him grab Brennan's hand. Suddenly, Brennan froze. "I didn't bring anything," she said.

"What?" Booth asked her.

"I didn't bring a blanket or flowers or a toy. That's what people do when friends have babies, and I didn't do it."

She sounded so disappointed in herself that it broke Booth's heart a little. "That's alright Bones. Let's just see how they are doing, and then we can go down to the gift shop and pick something out. Okay?" He tried not to let it sound like a man consoling his sad girlfriend, lest he continue to get looks from Cam.

Ten minutes later they were on their way back down the elevator. Angela's labor was progressing quickly and Booth thought it best to get the gift soon so Brennan could have it when the baby was actually born. He guided her through the hospital halls to the gift shop and stood back to let her choose what she wanted. After a couple of minutes looking around, she turned back to him. The helplessness that strained her features had him next to her in a heartbeat.

"What is it, Bones?"

"I don't know what to do. You're a father. Please help me pick something that she would like."

"Angela is your best friend, Bones. You know her much better than I do. Take a deep breath, and choose from your heart. She'll love whatever it is, because it's from you." He nudged her towards the shelves and stepped back again.

She wandered, stopping periodically to pick up a stuffed rabbit or a knit baby hat. Each time, she looked up at him, as if she was asking for permission. He shrugged each time, trying to encourage her to pick something out herself. Truthfully, he'd already special ordered a onesie online that said "Protected by the FBI." It was wrapped in blue wrapping paper and sitting on his kitchen table. He'd planned on giving it to Angela and Hodgins once they settled in at home. While he waited for Brennan to decide—and hoped Angela wouldn't already have given birth by that time—he perused the little gift shop himself. He had bought a bag of gummy worms from the woman at the register and was looking through magazines when Brennan finally approached him again.

"Do you think this is okay?" she asked. She was holding a small stuffed animal.

"I think it will be perfect, Bones. Let's pay for it and get back upstairs."

She took her fluffy purchase to the register and the same elderly woman rang it up. The woman commented on how soft the stuffed animal was, and how certain she was that the recipient would love it. Booth watched as Brennan's eyes lit back up and a smile crossed her face. As they walked back out of the shop, the woman behind the register gave him a wink. He nodded in thanks. Obviously, Brennan wasn't the only person who went into the shop uncertain about a purchase. He wondered how many people left with their flowers and toys much happier because of that woman's words of encouragement.

"Are you going to go back to New York?" she asked, out of the blue.

"Uh, yeah. I guess I should. I wasn't really thinking about it with Angela having the baby and all."

"I want to go with you, but I understand without two senior members of the Jeffersonian staff, it would make more sense for me to stay behind." Her thumb absently rubbed the paw of the stuffed animal as she spoke.

"I think Cam can handle it. And since you aren't a bug specialist, and are not an artist and computer wizard, would you really be doing much more than you already are?"

"Probably not."

"Can they feed you the data remotely for you to analyze?"

"Yes."

"Then come with me so I won't have to miss you while I'm gone," he said as they stepped onto the elevator.

Booth offered Brennan a gummy worm on their way back up to the waiting room, but she declined. She was nervous, but he could tell she was also excited. He knew she wanted a child too, and for now, being an aunt would help ease that desire. Until she really was ready.

Until they were ready.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It was time for me to tackle Booth again. Phew.**


	34. Puddles and Smudges

Castle was pulled out of sleep by someone calling his name. He knew the voice sounded familiar, but something about it was different. It was soft and quiet—not at all like Beckett usually sounded like. He opened one eye. Beckett was kneeling next to the break room couch he had crashed on with one hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her lips were inches from his. If he leaned forward just a hair more—

"Castle, wake up," she whispered.

Dismissing his urges, he opened the other eye. "How long was I asleep?"

"I'm not sure, but it's lunchtime now and we should eat something if we intend to last for the rest of the day."

"Have you had a break at all?" he asked, pushing himself up slowly and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Not yet, but lunch will be okay. I got a nap last night, remember? You've been running on nothing all day."

"And it's been a big day."

"Getting bigger," she added. "Tempe and Booth are going to come back into town tomorrow to help with interrogation and finally solving this case."

Castle smiled. "They are?"

"I just got off the phone with Booth. He said they thought he would be coming alone, but he changed Tempe's mind."

Castle stood gingerly, his muscles still not quite awake, and reached down to help Beckett up as well. "Tempe wasn't going to come? Why not?"

"That's the other news—Angela had her baby today. Tempe thought with her and Hodgins out of the lab, she would need to cover. Booth talked her out of it."

"Good. What was that about lunch?" Castle gestured to the door. He followed her out, his hand on the small of her back until they reached the bullpen. As they stepped out of the precinct and onto the street, Castle was awed by how beautiful the day had become. He hadn't been outside since they arrived at the station at 2:30 that morning. It had been too dark to ascertain anything other than the fact that it wasn't raining. He took a deep breath and followed Beckett to the car, aware that they would most likely spend the rest of the day cooped up in the station. "Hey, you want to go to the park again?" he asked. "We can stop and get sandwiches or something. I have a feeling we won't see the light of day much more once we get back to the precinct."

"Sounds good. You want the deli around the block or do you want to go to that other one you took me to last month?"

The deli she referred to was only one of the best-kept secrets in Manhattan. "Do you have to ask? I mean, do you remember how delicious that turkey sandwich was? You have to be glad I took you there."

She rolled her eyes and pulled out into traffic.

"So, what did I miss while I was asleep?"

"Not much. Most of the developments you were there for. We have solid identity on all four victims now. We know that they all tie into drugs in one way or another. We also know that they tie into my old case from a few years back. All we have to do now is sniff out our murderer, and the guy cleaning up after him."

"Do you think it's worth tracking down our easily offended, cheekbone bruising friend from last week?"

"Might be. Maybe he's heard something new. We'll head to his part of town after lunch."

Tracking down Petey proved easier than either of them thought. The dealer was standing in the exact same spot he had been the first time they talked to him. He was hazy on the details of their previous conversation—Castle had a pretty firm idea that it had to do with his being incredibly high the last time—but luckily for them, he had heard a rumor the night before. Even luckier, Castle figured, was the fact that he wasn't high enough the night before to forget having heard it.

"A friend of mine, Darling, said she heard he was out and about last night a few blocks from here. Said a customer named Hatty bit it."

"Can we talk to Darling or do you have more details than that?" Beckett asked as Castle stood back.

He was definitely not afraid of the drug dealer. He just didn't want to get hit again.

"Come on, Petey. What does a few blocks from here mean?" Beckett was trying to keep the dealer's attention on her. It kept drifting to the other people walking by.

"I don't know. She didn't say."

Castle took a tentative step forward. "Then where does Darling hang out?"

Petey scratched his head and looked down at the ground. "I think the place is called Cheers."

"Cheers?" Beckett asked skeptically.

"Yeah." Petey started to back away as the street around him got a little busier.

"Okay, thanks Petey. You hear anything else you find a cop and ask for Detective Beckett. You got me?" She made sure she made eye contact one last time to hit the point home.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled and he ambled off down an alley.

Castle came closer to Beckett. "This Darling person hangs out at a fictional TV show bar?"

She shook her head. "We need to find a street cop around here. See if they've heard of Darling or this bar she hangs out by."

An Officer Gedley was the first one they could find. He laughed when they asked him about Cheers. "There ain't no bars around here like that. Your boy probably meant Keyer's. Local dump two streets over and four blocks down. I don't know this 'Darling' though."

"Thanks," Beckett said. She headed off down the street.

Castle followed. When he caught up, he again slid his hand to the small of her back as she dodged around and through the crowd. She allowed him to guide her without complaint, and he enjoyed the contact. When they reached Keyer's, she stopped and turned to him.

"Butch up, Castle. Try to look like a cop this time. And do not eat anything out of a jar on the bar, okay?"

He nodded, grimacing at the thought of that pickled egg that had been his downfall the last time Beckett had told him to butch up. Tugging his jacket into place and putting on what he hoped looked like a tough cop face, he followed her as she opened the door wide and made a beeline through the tables for the man behind the bar.

"What can I do for you, _officer_?" he asked Beckett. The emphasis he put on her title had several people getting up nervously and either moving further away or toward the door.

"Looking for a local dealer. Darling. You know where I can find her?"

"Why should I know? I don't cater to dealers in here." His tone was bordering on the kind that made Beckett threaten people.

"Oh, yeah? Well, what's your name then?"

"Joe. Joe Keyer. That doesn't change my answer."

Castle didn't make a move, but spoke up. "I don't know, Joe. Detective Beckett here looks like she is starting to take offense at your tone. You wouldn't want to be shut down completely, would you? My friend at the fire marshal's office wouldn't be too happy about your unmarked exits and the boxes you have stacked on that stairway." He wasn't sure if he sounded tough, but an fake threat was a cop's bread and butter.

Beckett turned to him with a look of uncertainty. She mouthed the words "fire marshal" to him in question, then rolled her eyes. She swiveled back to face the bar owner again, but he wasn't talking.

"For God's sake, Joe," a woman said as she busted out of the kitchen. "Stop acting like such a tough guy." She turned to Castle, ignoring Beckett completely. "Darling is in the bathroom, puking her guts out." She winked at the writer.

"Well, thank you, ma'am," he said to her. She wasn't a particularly attractive woman, but Castle could flirt harmlessly with her in exchange for the information she had just given them. "And you are?"

"Moira. Moira Keyer. And you're Richard Castle, ain'tcha?"

Castle registered the tensing that ran through Joe's body when he realized his wife was flirting. His guise as a cop was blown, but that didn't mean he couldn't still be useful. He stepped forward, towards Moira, and leaned his elbows down on the bar rail. "I am, Moira. And what a lovely name that is. What else can you tell me about Darling? It's police business, you understand."

"Darling is a typical dealer. When she makes a sale, she comes here for a shot and some food. Been in and out of here for the last couple of years. She's young, but she's tough enough to still be alive. She in trouble?"

Castle smiled at the woman, turning his charm on. "No, no. We heard she saw something last night, and we just need to ask her where."

The woman batted her eyelashes at Castle, ignoring her husband's silent protests from a couple of feet away. "She didn't mention where she was last night, but she didn't crawl into here until this morning. She was in bad shape, and one plate of cheese sticks had her tossing her cookies in the closest stall she could find."

"Thanks, Moira. We'll just go talk to her, then, and we'll be out of your way." Castle pulled back from the bar and motioned Beckett down the hallway marked "restroom." He turned and winked at Moira for effect.

"You might want to hold your breath, it's probably going to smell awful in there," she said as she pushed the door open.

A black boot stuck out from under a stall, and the door swung aimlessly on its hinge. "Darling?" Kate said quietly.

A moan came from within the stall. "Yeah?"

Kate stepped forward and opened the door. "I'm Kate." She crouched down. "A friend of mine said you saw something last night. Someone getting hurt?"

When the girl moaned again, Castle wet some paper towels with cold water and passed them to Kate. As Kate pressed them to the girl's forehead, Darling's eyes fluttered open.

"Shit, you're a cop." She started to struggle, but was weak and didn't make it very far before Beckett got a hold on her.

"You're not in trouble. I just want to know where you were last night. If you tell me, we'll leave right now."

The girl was quiet, licking her dry lips and trying to open her eyes fully. "An alley over by the park a block down. It was dark. I was making a deal, heard someone screaming and a lot of noise from above me. I didn't see anything, it was somebody's apartment or something. But I heard about the dealer who has been hacking up customers, and I ran."

"Did you hear gun shots?"

She shook her head. "Will you leave me alone now? My head feels like it is going to explode. I was so freaked out last night that I took what I had on me. I wish I knew what combo it was so I would never do it again."

"Alright, Darling. We'll leave you alone. If you get worse, you have Moira and Joe take you to the hospital." Kate stood up and backed out of the stall.

"I'm fine. I just over did it, I didn't OD or anything." The girl closed her eyes again, sinking back against the wall of the stall and resting her arm on the toilet seat.

"C'mon, Castle. Let's leave her alone and get out of here." Beckett ushered her out of the bathroom and back into the bar. She handed a card to Moira as they walked by. "She remembers anything else, you call me. Check on her in a bit. She could probably use some water."

Moira nodded silently, throwing one last hopeful glance in Castle's direction. Castle smiled in return, a particularly devilish smile that he had been told drove the ladies crazy. He followed Beckett out onto the street. She looked around, honed in on the park a block down and headed that direction. "Why didn't you bring her in?" he asked Beckett as he walked next to her.

"She didn't see anything. It would have been a waste of our time to go all the way back to the station. She pointed us in the right direction, that's all we needed."

"We could have helped her straighten out. Get back on her feet."

"She'll never be on her feet, Castle. I've seen enough dealers to know. But I tucked $20 into her jacket pocket before we left. Hopefully she'll use it to get some food in her system."

"You old softy," he told her.

She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. "Well, if you keep buying me meals, Castle, I'm going to have some spare cash laying around."

Picking up a check without Beckett noticing, or before she could do it herself, was Castle's specialty. It was the only thing with regards to reflexes at which he was better than her. Now that he thought about it, though, she probably hadn't really been trying all along. And with how she had been looking at him lately—and having broken up with Josh—she probably hadn't tried at all for the past couple of times. It was almost like they were dating. He stopped dead at the sudden realization.

"This must be the alley," she said as she turned off the sidewalk. She walked several more feet before she called to him.

"Right, sorry," he said, trotting around the corner and into the alley behind her. His mind was still reeling as his eyes followed her gaze to the apartment building that bordered the alley.

"There must be a dozen apartments up there. If Darling was hearing something, it was probably loud, which means someone else would have heard it too. I guess we'll have to find the landlord and start questioning tenants."

Castle drew himself up abreast with Beckett, but the sun was shining in his eyes. He looked down to clear them, almost dismissing the puddle he saw as he rubbed his eyes. He wondered if it had rained last night. He didn't think so, and so he looked down at the puddle again. It was liquid, for sure, but it didn't look like water. "Beckett?"

Her gaze followed his pointed finger. "What is that?"

"I don't think it's water," he said. "It didn't rain last night."

She crouched down, her hand reaching out tentatively. When she pulled her fingers away from the puddle, they were coated in red. She looked up at him. He aligned himself so the puddle was directly between him and the building, then looked straight up. Three stories above, a white windowsill had a dried red smudge adorning it. Beckett stood again, and looked up as well.

"Somebody was definitely murdered here last night," she said.

"And tossed out a window."

"And probably spread out among several dumpsters on the island."

He looked down at her. "If we have to be awake for the next 24 hours, I'm going to need some more of that magic coffee of yours."

"Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I guess by tacking on all these extra bodies, it kind of screws with my story title. Oh, well. Yesterday, while I was writing, I saw that I had exactly 23,000 hits on my story. It made me so very happy. Thank you all for reading, and favoriting my story (which introdcues new people to it as well). Im constantly surprised by my daily hits. That is what keeps me writing. Enjoy this long chapter!**


	35. Back in the Big Apple

Brennan yawned as the cab drove through the streets. Booth was next to her, talking on his phone to Sweets.

"Sweets, I don't know what else to tell you. Getting back together with Daisy after she told you she wanted three kids by the time she was thirty? Not a good idea. What do you mean why? Because for all that you think you're going to get sex out of it, you could end up getting a kid out of it. Are you really ready for that?"

Brennan tried to tune out the rest of the conversation. She could just barely make out the doctor's whiny voice on the other end. She looked back down at her notes, but the taxi was a little too dark to make very much of the fine print out. Her tired eyes were not cooperating very well.

"Sweets, we're at the precinct here. Just do yourself a favor and insist on protection. Well, then buy a value pack." He ended the call quickly. When the light from the screen on his phone faded to black, the taxi got even darker. "You know, your idea a while ago to use my sperm to have a baby may have sent a bad message to Daisy."

"Do you think it is making her desire to have babies with Sweets?"

"Yeah, but without all the tests and—you know—asking for permission concept."

The cab stopped in front of the precinct and Brennan handed the driver cash. Booth got out and was opening her door for her before she knew it. She handed out her shoulder bag and climbed out herself. "Are you sure they're here?" she asked Booth.

"Beckett said they would be here all night, and it's only a little after 10:30. They'll be here." He led the way up the steps and to the front desk, where he pulled out his badge and took her ID card to hand to the receptionist. "Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan for Detective Beckett."

When the receptionist had cleared them through, they took the stairs up to the bullpen. Brennan could see the conference room she had been using previously was once again cleared. She set her things down, then wandered into the quiet bullpen to find Beckett and Castle. There was an unknown officer at a desk at the other end of the room, but Beckett was not at her desk. Brennan wandered into the break room, with Booth following behind, and smiled at the sight she found inside. Castle was sitting at one end of the sofa, his arm draped over the back of it, with his head resting on top of his arm. Beckett lay across the couch, her ankles resting on Castle's lap. A folder lay open on her stomach. Both were sound asleep.

"Should we wake them up?" Booth asked.

"I think we have to," she replied. "Nobody else is here." She walked across the room and bent to tap Castle's shoulder. He shifted, but didn't wake. "Rick," she said to him, her voice sounding at normal volume. Nothing happened. She moved to Beckett, who awoke with one quick tap on the arm.

"Tempe, hey. Did you guys just get here?"

"Yes. I tried to wake Rick, but he won't wake up."

Beckett sighed. "Castle!" she shouted. He jumped awake. "Tempe and Booth are here."

He focused on Brennan. "Oh. Hi there. We were definitely not sleeping. We've just had a long day and were running a couple more scenarios when—"

"Castle," Beckett said. "They solve crimes. They're not morons."

"Okay, yes, we were sleeping," he admitted.

Brennan watched as Beckett's lips curled up in a slight smile. Castle noticed it too, by her book, if his eyebrow raise in the detective's direction was any evidence. Beckett slid her legs off of Castle's lap and approached Brennan with a hand extended. Brennan shook, then watched as Beckett did the same with Booth. "We can go back to the hotel if you two would like to get some more rest. Or we could stay here and work while you get some more rest."

"No, no," Beckett said. "We must've been out for a while. We're ready to go."

"Thirty minutes is not a while," Castle mumbled under his breath.

Brennan heard it, but let it go. She followed Beckett out to her desk, where Booth pulled up two more chairs and they all sat. She appreciated when Beckett got right down to business.

"We caught a break yesterday afternoon. We believe another murder took place the night before. Word on the street is that it is our guy. We have foot patrols and uniforms checking dumpsters on their routes, but we'll be lucky if we find anything. The bags are unmarked, and usually sealed up pretty tight. Our victim is believed to be one Bridget Hattery, known as Hatty. There was enough blood in her apartment and on the ground below for us to believe she is dead, but not enough for her to have been dismembered there. The dealer who led us to the murder scene, Darling, used to be Hatty's dealer."

"But not anymore?" Booth asked.

"Not according to Darling. She said Hatty paid off her 'tab' and she hadn't heard from her in months. We had to cut Darling loose, but we have someone keeping an eye on her. Personally, I don't think she's our murderer." Beckett glanced over at the murder board. It practically overflowed its edges with photos and writing. "Castle and I have been running a list I had Ryan and Esposito pull of recently released inmates to match up with a list of that area's known dealers. No hits so far. Have you been able to get anything on my old case?"

"Not much, but it's something," Brennan said. Once she was certain Angela and Hodgins were settled with their baby, she had headed straight back to the lab. Brennan pulled out the documents she had produced now and handed them to Beckett. "Booth ran an FBI background on the address, which housed a wood furniture factory. Raymus Furniture abruptly went out of business three years before those bodies were found."

Booth leaned forward before continuing where Brennan had left off. "The building's first couple of floors went on to be leased again, but the upper floors have remained unused, as far as the records show. Ownership of the building has passed down to a son at this point, and he says he doesn't even think he's been up there in years. The bodies from your old case were found on the fourth floor of that building, and while the owner vaguely remembers the murder happening, he says he's never had any trouble since."

"I've been too busy dealing with this most recent case to even think about getting out to that building, but we need to," Beckett said. She flipped through the file Brennan had handed her slowly, analyzing what she read on each page as quickly as possible. "If one of our more recent victims was there, we need to know."

"I'll put a call in to the owner first thing tomorrow. We shouldn't have any problem getting a look around." Booth wrote a note down in his book and sat back.

"As for the victims in your old case, Kate, we're finding it difficult to come to any kind of conclusions. Working with x-rays and photographs only has gotten us about as far as the investigators got several years ago. With Angela out of the office, any facial reconstruction won't be quite as accurate. Even when she does get back, reconstructions based on x-rays and photographs alone tend to be inconclusive. I think that we should focus on what the old case has already given us—a location—and work backwards once we have more information regarding it. At this time, there won't be much more information regarding the victims until I've had significantly more time to view and analyze the x-rays."

"So, what do we do now?" Castle asked.

"Castle, why don't you help Tempe get set up and down to business on the analysis. I have some theories I want to run by Booth. We'll work for a couple of hours, then head home for a little shut eye and meet back up in the morning."

Brennan agreed with Beckett, and nodded her approval before getting up from the chair. Castle led the way to the conference room and, once there, stacked extra chairs against the walls and pulled down the projection screen. Brennan watched him as she pulled her laptop and stacks of files out and arranged them on the large table.

He caught her looking at him. "What?" he asked.

"You look tired."

"I can always count on you to be honest, Tempe. I know I look like crap."

"I was stating a fact. You have darkened circles under your eyes, and you are moving with less mobility than usual. Those are simple signs of fatigue. I was not trying to say that you look unattractive. The fact that you have not shaved in probably 48 hours or so actually increases your attractiveness to a large percentage of the female population, myself included, as does the un-tucked flannel shirt and rumpled hairstyle."

Castle's hands shot to his hair, and he turned to the glass windows of the conference room. "Oh, man," he said. "My hair is all flattened on one side. Why didn't anybody tell me that?"

Brennan chuckled. "You look fine, Rick. But you look tired. How much sleep have you gotten in the last 48 hours?"

"It's not too bad, Tempe. I've pulled more than two all-nighters in a row in my lifetime finishing book deadlines. How are you and Booth doing?"

Changing the subject didn't usually work with her. Rick knew it, and she was surprised he tried. "I'm going to guess you've had less than four hours of sleep in the last two days, which is enough to cause you to begin making errors in judgment. That stands for Kate too. You both need to take a break and let your bodies and minds rest." She sat down and booted up her laptop before looking back up at him. "Booth and I are doing just fine. We seem—well, I seem—to be unable to be away from him for long periods of time. I think it has something to do with the sexual release, though I'm not certain if it is because neither of us had been having regular intercourse, or—"

"Okay, that's enough!" Castle shouted. "You could have stopped at 'fine,' Tempe. It's like thinking about a family member doing that." He shuddered dramatically.

"You read the sexual scenes in my book without any problems," she offered.

"Well, being a writer myself, I have an innate ability to disconnect characters and the real people on which they are based."

Brennan rolled her eyes.

Castle raised an eyebrow. "Okay, _Beckett_."

She kept a straight face. "Rick, you must be more tired than I initially thought. I'm Tempe. Kate's not here." She wondered if he would pick up on her joking tone.

He stared at her quizzically for a few seconds before saying anything. "Yeah, I know. You just did a thing there—and—oh, nevermind. Back to work."

Brennan decided that Castle definitely needed some sleep if he couldn't pick up on her jokes. She smiled and switched her laptop view to projection before handing him notes to read over while she worked with the x-rays. Before she settled into a structural analysis, she marked the time on her notepad and made a mental note to make sure they were all home and asleep two hours from now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm not sure why, but Brennan kind of started thinking like a mom in this chapter. I liked it though. The case is going to move quickly from here, so get ready. Maybe some more Booth/Bones smut. Maybe some more Caskett goodness. Only time, and my fatigued brain and fingers, will tell. Thanks for reading!**


	36. Nightmares

"Hello?" Beckett mumbled into her phone. She wanted nothing more than to sink deeper into her bed. But she also knew that when Esposito called her at 6:00 in the morning, she was going to have to get up. "Yeah, Espo. Where?" She sat up, grabbing for the lamp's switch. "Are you sure? No, I'm just a little surprised. I'm supposed to head over to the old warehouse this morning with our FBI counterparts. They got in last night. Shut up, Espo, and make sure that you have Lanie and Perlmutter at the scene. I don't care what you have to do to get them there, but I want the best. Yeah, I'll call him. We'll be by as soon as we can, and then we'll leave for the warehouse from there. Half an hour? Got it." Kate tossed her phone back on the bedside table, begrudgingly pulled the covers off her legs, and made for the bathroom.

"Damn it," she muttered, turning back to her bedroom to get the phone. She pressed a button and held the phone up to her ear. She was a little put off when it went right to voicemail, but she didn't really have time to think about it. When the beep sounded, she left a quick message. "Castle, we may have a found part of Bridget Hattery. Espo and Ryan are on the scene now and we need to meet them. I'll be by in 15 minutes to pick you up." She paused, then added, "And thanks for getting me home last night." She bolted for the bathroom and started her morning routine in fast-forward mode.

As promised, Beckett pulled up in front of Castle's building 15 minutes later. She waited two more, then called him again. Her call went straight to voicemail. She rolled her eyes, imagining him doing something ridiculous like putting together a gourmet breakfast burrito for her. When two more minutes went by and he still wasn't there, she killed the engine and headed into the building, now imagining much worse things than one of Castle's breakfast burritos.

"Good morning, Detective Beckett. Do you need me to call up?" the doorman asked.

"No, thanks. I'll head up myself."

The doorman nodded at her, pressing the button to call the elevator. She stepped inside and waited as it ascended to his floor. The hallway was quiet, but that wasn't unusual. A quick knock on the door didn't provide any results. She knocked louder—nothing. Digging into her jacket pocket, she retrieved a silver key. She fumbled with the deadbolts and locks, but stepped into the silent loft a moment later. She had never needed to use the key Castle had given to her "in case of emergency." It made her slightly uneasy, feeling like she was alone in the loft, despite how comfortable she usually was in the space. The kitchen was dark, so Castle was definitely not making her a breakfast burrito. A dim blue light was emanating from his office, and she slowly made her way toward it. She rested her hand on her sidearm, just in case something really was wrong. When she walked through the door, she could see that he hadn't powered down his smart board. Using the faint light to help her see where she going, she made her way to his bedroom door, which was partly open.

"Castle?" she asked, hoping he would answer. No response came. She nudged the door open further, and sighed as she dropped both hands to her sides. He was lying face down and sprawled out on his bed, fully dressed. "Castle," she repeated, somewhat louder than before. She crossed the dark room to his bedside table to pick up his phone. She pressed each button in turn, but it appeared the battery was dead. Crouching down, she felt along the floor until she found the discarded power cord. She plugged the phone in, and then placed it back on the table before she stood and crossed her arms over her chest. "Castle."

When there was still no response, she had no other choice. She stepped closer to the bed, planning to shake him awake, but paused. She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to climb into the bed and tease him until he woke up. She wanted to drag her fingernails lightly down his back and then back up into his hair. She wanted to—she stopped and shook her head. She pushed her slight arousal down past her gut and into her toes, trying desperately to ignore it. What she wanted to do to or with Castle right now didn't matter. They had a crime scene to get to and they were already late. Instead, she reached out and shook his shoulder.

Within a heartbeat, Castle had rolled up and out of bed, taking her down to the floor. By the time her back hit the wood, her surprise had worn off and instinct took over. She levered one leg behind his and rolled them both, holding his arms down and pinning him with a well-placed knee. "What the hell, Castle!" she yelled.

"Kate?" he asked.

"Duh!"

He looked at her for a moment, not saying a word. Then, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—I think I was—it was just a dream."

"You aren't making sense, Castle."

His fisted hands released and he splayed his fingers wide, clearly trying to convey that he wasn't trying to hurt her. "I was dreaming. We were at a funeral, and someone came toward you. He—he shot you, Kate. I saw him and I tried to take you down before he got a round off, but he shot you. You were bleeding, Kate, into my hands. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I figured it was him coming to finish you off, so I—I lunged at him. But it wasn't him. It was you." He closed his eyes and let out a breath.

Beckett took in his shaking form and heavy breathing and removed her knee from its offending location. One by one she released his wrists, placing her hands on either side of his head. "Yeah, it was me. Your dreams sound suspiciously like my own."

He didn't respond to that. He was looking at her very peculiarly. His hands reached up off the floor and pressed into the inside of her elbows before cradling her face down to meet his. Her locked elbows released at the pressure and gravity had her collapsing on top of him before she could get her balance. "You're here," he whispered before crashing their lips together.

And despite any misgivings she had about this relationship, her body and lips responded immediately. It wasn't fireworks and it wasn't spontaneous combustion. It was sadness, and regret, and relief, and hunger. One of his hands buried in her hair and the other wrapped around her waist to pin her to him. It wasn't until she remembered the crime scene they were supposed to be at that she stopped kissing back.

He noticed the change in her body immediately and released her waist. He pulled his lips away and pressed her forehead to his. "I'm so glad you're here. Wait—why are you here?" he asked, pulled her face back so he could look at her.

"You weren't answering your phone. We have to get to a crime scene. They think they found part of Hatty. Then we have to meet Booth at the warehouse."

"Right. Are you okay? Did I hurt you when I—"

"Tackled me?" Beckett chuckled and pulled her hands out of his hair to rest on his shoulders. "No, you didn't hurt me. In case you didn't notice, I had a handle on that situation pretty quick."

"I noticed. So are we late already?"

"Yep."

"Okay, let me get ready." He rolled onto his side, pulling her body with him. He met her eyes briefly, before dipping his lips to hers once more cautiously. After he pulled away, he moved to stand. "Ten minutes?"

She propped herself up on one elbow and nodded. She accepted the hand he offered to help her up, sat back on his bed, and watched him disappear into the bathroom. Once the water started running, and she had blocked the concept of a naked, wet Castle from her mind, she pressed a hand to her lips and allowed herself to begin breathing again. If that was what kissing Richard Castle was like, she was certainly happy to do it more often. Sure, they had kissed before, and it had been great. But the stigma of being watched—of needing the kiss to work in order to get the bad guys—had made it somewhat less romantic. _This_ kiss had been deeply emotional, not to mention it was on his pitch-dark bedroom floor. He was all mussed from bed and she had just been imagining all the things she wanted to do to him as he slept. She had known it was time to stop denying her feelings, and, now that she had made it clear, she knew she couldn't take it back. Full steam ahead. Thinking about steam made her think about naked, wet Castle again. She swore at herself, but even that couldn't get a hold on her physical state. The best she could do was keep herself on the bed and out of the bathroom.

Before she knew it, the bathroom door opened and there he stood. Perhaps she had hoped he would come out in a loosely-draped towel, but the t-shirt and jeans combination still had her heart beating just a little faster. He walked toward her as he absently towel-dried his hair. "Hey, I just realized something. I'm not dead—why am I not dead?"

Beckett knew exactly to what he was referring. Why hadn't she beat him senseless for taking advantage of her? She looked at the floor. "I don't know Castle, maybe now that I'm used to you pulling my pigtails, I'm ready for you to start trying to kiss me."

He didn't reply to that. She could see his eyes widen ever so slightly in the glow from the bathroom before he made his way to the closet for a shirt. It beat Beckett as to how he could go into a pitch black closet and come out with a blue flannel that would work great with his eyes. Maybe it was dumb luck. Maybe it was just part of the mystery of Richard Castle. She wondered if he could go into her closet blind and pick out a perfect outfit for her. Probably.

"Beckett?"

His voice interrupted her vision of a blindfolded Castle rifling around in her closet. "Yeah?"

He stood at the bedroom door, his flannel shirt buttoned up already. "Aren't we late?"

She lifted herself from the bed quickly. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. You have no idea how excited I am that I can distract you so much without actually doing anything."

"Shut up. And you'll want to plug your phone in when we get in the car." She pulled the phone from its charge cord and handed it over as she breezed past him. She hoped it looked as if she was unaffected by their romp.

"That's more like the cranky, morning-Beckett I'm used to. You need some coffee."

She waited as he left a note for Alexis and grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. As the elevator doors closed them into the confined space, she finally spoke. "How often do you have that dream?"

He spoke quietly, but without reservation. "At least once a week. Different incarnations of it, I suppose. This was the first time for that specific time and place. Usually we're in the precinct and someone gets loose or we're chasing down a suspect. Sometimes Ryan and Esposito get wounded too. I've fallen out of bed a couple of times." He turned to her. "I'm really sorry for tackling you like that. It was a bad one—probably from all the stress lately. And I know it's stupid, but the possibility of you getting hurt—or killed—or something happening to the guys really is a nightmare for me."

Beckett was silent as they walked out to her car. They both waved and nodded at the doorman as they passed, but it wasn't until they were both in the car that she spoke again. "Two nights ago I dreamt that you called in a panic. Someone was in the loft, and they had a gun. I got over here as fast as I could, but by the time I did, the guy had shot Alexis and you before jumping off the fire escape. You were still alive, but you were cradling Alexis in your lap and your hands were covered in blood. I wasn't fast enough to save you, and you died before the paramedics even got into the building. I woke up crying."

"Beckett—"

She shook her head to stop him. "Two weeks ago, I dreamt that someone set fire to your building, and you were stupid enough to go back in to try to save more tenants. They pulled your body out after the building collapsed. It's not stupid. I have nightmares about losing you too. I'm fine, and I'm right here, and if making out with me on your bedroom floor helped reassure you of that fact, I'm glad I was there. Maybe we can try, in the future, to be there for each other when we wake up from those dreams."

"Like in bed?" Despite the severity of the conversation, his lips quirked into a smile.

"How about next time I wake up from a nightmare like that, I'll call you. You do the same. We'll see how the rest progresses." Beckett started the car and pulled into the light traffic.

Castle nodded, then said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not pushing me away this morning."

She smiled.

"And for not kneeing me in the balls."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Some Caskett-y goodness for you folks. Finally! I wasn't planning on going there when I started the chapter either. Interesting how it played out. I hope you liked it, but don't forget there is a case to solve-and it's about to get a lot more interesting.**

**On a side note, and I won't spoil anything, but Cops and Robbers from last night here in the States was a fabulous episode. Definitely glad the trick-or-treaters were done by then because there was no way I would have been able to tear myself away to hand out candy.**


	37. License Plates and Sawdust

**A/N: I'm still here, I promise. And I'm still writing. But as the story goes on, the chapters get harder to write. We are kind of coming into the home stretch, which is both a relief and sad at the same time. I have an idea for a new fic, though it probably will not be a crossover. This is another four-part chapter, and it has a pretty good length. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

><p>"This could very well be your missing girl," Perlmutter said to Beckett. He stood beside a stretcher that was lined with a body bag. The garbage bag on top of the body bag was sliced open in one long incision, and the bag spread as wide as possible. Beckett tried not to look at the contents for more than a moment.<p>

"The bags match, Beckett, butI'm not sure how much that really means," Esposito added. He and Ryan were next to the dumpster while two techs sorted through the top layer of trash.

"Perlmutter, Lanie, how much can you tell me about what we do have in that bag?" Beckett asked.

"Honestly? Not much. I can tell you what a couple of the body parts are, but there are a few smaller—chunks." Lanie grimaced. "I'm not going to be able to do much with those until we can get this sorted out at the morgue." She looked at Perlmutter for confirmation, who nodded in agreement.

"How fast can you process?"

"We've still got some time here and then we'll head back. It'll be priority one for both of us."

"Would it help if you had a certain Jeffersonian anthropologist helping you out?"

"Dr. Brennan?" Lanie asked. "Yeah, certainly."

"Booth and I have something to do with Booth and Brennan when we leave here. If she is free, I'll see about sending her down to you."

"You'll call first, right? Because we wouldn't want to make a bad impression," Lanie said, clearly concerned that her New York City morgue wouldn't be quite up to standards.

"Sure, Lanie. Don't forget to touch up your hair and makeup." Beckett rolled her eyes.

Castle stepped forward. "If this is Hattie, we caught one hell of a break."

"It's her," Beckett said. "I know it."

"We've got about five minutes before we need to go," Castle added.

Beckett nodded. Overwhelmed was the right term for how she was feeling. Glancing at her watch, she saw that Castle was right about how much time they had to be across town at the warehouse. The past twelve hours had been emotionally, mentally, and physically draining. Waking up draped over Castle in the precinct; having to download all her case info to Booth and Brennan; forced out of the precinct by Castle—who also insisted on driving—only to fall asleep during the ride home; waking up to the sound of her door being keyed open and realizing that she was being held securely in her partner's arms as he carried her to bed; the feeling of gentle hands removing her jacket and shoes and tucking her under blankets; the phone so rudely waking her from the blackness of unconsciousness; worrying about Castle not answering his phone; finding Castle fast asleep and then finding herself on the floor beneath him—on top of him—all over him; the thoughts of naked, wet Castle that were still invading her brain; a girl cut to pieces and stuffed into a trash bag. When it rained, it poured, and Beckett was feeling soaked to the bone by how much was going on around and within her.

She looked up to try to clear her head, taking a deep breath of what she hoped wouldn't be garbage-scented air. She opened her eyes, which were aimed up and away from the crime scene—and directly into a security camera lens.

"Ryan, Esposito? I think you have some footage to review," she said.

* * *

><p>Booth crouched down and put his hand to the floor. Sawdust and regular dust coated every surface on this floor of the warehouse. The almost nonexistent glow from the naked light bulbs that hung every fifteen feet would make it hard to find evidence without flashlights in hand. In concert, three flashlight beams swept around and past him.<p>

"There aren't any footprints, and there would be if our guy had been here recently." Beckett's heels sent out a muffled click every time she took a step.

At her side, as usual, was Castle. "We've got a lot more of this floor to go before we give up hope entirely." He took a step and slipped, nearly taking Beckett down as he attempted to right himself. Once he had regained his balance, he nonchalantly added, "Everybody be careful. The floor is extremely slippery. Don't you laugh at me, Beckett, you did the same thing the other night."

Booth watched as Beckett rolled her eyes, then trained his focus on Brennan, who had moved ahead of them already. "Bones? Don't get too far ahead, okay?" The place made him uncomfortable, especially knowing that the entire building was empty due to a holiday. He rested a hand on his sidearm, noticing Beckett doing the same, and clicked on his flashlight. "Anything up there?" he asked his partner.

"Not yet," she replied.

Castle followed behind him as he stepped into the next room on the floor, Beckett bringing up the rear. Booth made his way up closer to Brennan, stepping in front of her in case they weren't alone.

"Booth, I can't see now."  
>"Bones, I don't want you ahead of me. It's pretty dim up here and there are a lot of rooms that anyone could be holing up in. Just let me take point, okay?"<p>

"There is backup downstairs, I don't know why you are so worried, Booth."

Booth sighed, but kept himself ahead of her.

Castle closed in behind Brennan, and Beckett followed suit. "I know what he is worried about, Tempe. It's creepy in here," the writer said. "The way the sawdust muffles the sounds of the building and yet somehow our voices are still echoing in the void."

"Castle, just keep your eyes open, please," Beckett said.

If Booth didn't know any better, he'd say there was something going on between them. He paused for a moment as he realized that he did know better. He and Brennan had walked in on them asleep on the same couch the night before. This morning when the taxi had brought them to the warehouse to meet the detective and writer, Booth had sworn he had seen them lean in close for a moment inside the car. When the two greeted Booth and Brennan, something seemed different. He was almost certain he and Brennan were giving off the same vibe. That alone made the evidence much more recognizable. Booth's spidey sense was tingling, if that's what he wanted to call it.

Of course, this building wasn't helping. Looking up ahead, it seemed the place was endless. He stepped carefully, glancing up and down to keep an eye on both the floor and what was up ahead of him. He approached a small office slowly, shining his flashlight inside to an empty, untouched room. Dust clung to everything inside, and sawdust had blown and been swept in as well. He moved ahead, glancing back to make sure everyone was still in position. He shined his flashlight up ahead to a set of fire doors. The doors were open, but gave limited sight to the space beyond. He continued on, sweeping his flashlight slowly to try to see as much as possible into the new area.

The thud of something heavy hitting the floor sounded from up ahead. Booth had drawn his weapon and levered it up with his flashlight in a heartbeat, recognizing that the people behind him had also stopped. He stepped to the side, making his way to the fire doors. Brennan stayed close behind him, Castle and Beckett lined up on the other side of the doors. A glance over showed that Beckett also had her weapon drawn. Her flashlight had disappeared, and her left arm reached back to her partner, keeping him behind her. Castle now held both flashlights. After quick nods of agreement, Booth and Beckett moved simultaneously into the new room, weapons raised.

There was no more sound, and the flashlight sweeps from Brennan and Castle showed nothing out of the ordinary. Sawdust still coated everything, and the dim lighting continued down a new corridor. Booth holstered his sidearm slowly and cautiously, not removing his hand from it once it was in place. He took the lead again, and Beckett fell back to keep an eye on the space behind them. Booth swung his flashlight back and forth—and stopped.

"Bones," he said, raising his hand and pointing where his flashlight beam landed. "I think we might have a crime scene."

* * *

><p>Castle watched as techs, organized efficiently by Brennan, swarmed the crime scene. He watched Beckett and Booth chatting from several yards away. He should probably be over there helping, but his head was fuzzy and he was so tired that leaning against the wall was about all he could manage. He had been previously running on pure adrenaline—and testosterone—based on his rather interesting morning. He watched as Brennan swabbed and bagged, marked the bag, and repeated the process over and over. Between the footsteps in the sawdust, the blood spatters all over, and the table saw itself, there was a lot of evidence to collect.<p>

And all Castle could think about was Beckett. Beckett on top of him, Beckett beneath him, Beckett sitting outside while he was in the shower; he couldn't stop it. The flashes he was getting of Beckett's blood on his hands in that cemetery kept throwing him off too. It had felt so real. Even now, it felt more like a memory than a dream. He wondered why was it resonating so soundly. He reminded himself that it didn't matter. Beckett was twenty feet away from him, and she was alive.

That make out session was what felt like a dream. He'd also had that dream on many occasions. He didn't usually tackle her before they made out, and he usually got to at least second base, but if anything that morning had a dreamlike aura surrounding it, it was him and Beckett on the floor of his bedroom in almost total darkness. Castle kept playing it over and over again, grasping for every detail he could to file it away until he could write it down. When he had realized that he was awake, and even though Beckett had her knee so effortlessly—yet firmly—pressed to a part of him that would not enjoy further pressure, he still hadn't been able to separate the dream from reality. Had he woken from a nightmare into a real-life fantasy? Had Beckett being shot been the reality and now he was dreaming she was with him again? He hadn't been able to sort it out. He spilled out his dream to her, hoping that would help. It hadn't. She had assured him that she was there in front of him, she was alive—but still he didn't know. So when she eased off him a bit, and her knee retreated to safe distance, Rick bumped her locked elbows and caught her as she collapsed on top of him. He mumbled something irrelevant and kissed her.

She kissed back immediately. And he knew in that moment that he was not dreaming. Castle had a good imagination—make that impeccable imagination—but that had been way more that he could ever have imagined. Dreaming of Beckett was hot, but it was also slightly dry. Like there was a film over everything, dulling out sensations and muting colors and tones and emotions. Muted and dull was not what he had experienced in that moment. There was more emotion there than he had ever experienced in a kiss. He had still been reeling from seeing that blood on his hands, and poured his regret and need into the kiss. He had felt her hunger, and relief. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight. When she had stopped moving so suddenly, he felt it. He stopped himself as if she had commanded it. She didn't say anything; she just rested her forehead on his. She he asked what he had been dying to know.

If that was what he got when his phone battery died, he was going to start "forgetting" to plug it in. He'd regretted having to get up, but he had to if they were ever going to solve the case. One last kiss and a very cold shower had him pulled together enough and getting ready for the long day he had known was ahead of them. The best reward he had gotten was the misty look on Beckett's face as she sat on his bed, when he had to assume she was thinking about him. Watching her now as she talked with Booth, he still could see just a glimmer of that look in her eyes.

Beckett answered her phone, Booth nodding as she stepped toward Castle to get away from the din of the crime scene. Castle stayed still and let her approach slowly. He watched her emotions range from excitement to intense concentration to skepticism as she listened intently to the other line. He could hear only her brief answers and comments. "Yes. Okay, you working on it? Anything yet? Yeah. We will. Not much. Good. Yep." She stepped closer to him as she ended the call. "You okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah." He smiled at her warmly. "Tired, you know?"

She sighed. "We'll stop and get coffee this time. Those cameras got us a license plate number. Boys are tracking it down now and they should have something in the next hour or so. Booth and Brennan are going to stay here for the crime scene. They'll meet us back at the precinct."

Castle nodded at her. "We heading out now?"

"Yeah."

He pushed off the wall gingerly and followed her as she waved good-bye to their FBI counterparts and crime scene team before walking out the door to the stairs. When she was on the landing between the second and third floors, he reached forward and snagged her hand. She turned to him, a question in her eyes. His other arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her close. For a brief moment their eyes met and he was shocked by the fire she had hidden there. When he pressed his lips to hers, she gave him just a little bit of that fire in return.

"I'm sorry, I just needed to make sure I'm not still dreaming," he told her after several moments of holding her close.

Beckett shook her head. "You're not."

"Good." Castle released her waist, but not her hand, and used his new found energy to pull her gently down the stairs. "Let's go catch bad guys."

* * *

><p>Brennan watched as the evidence was unloaded from the crime scene tech's SUV. Booth was speaking to their supervisor, making sure that the evidence got priority by using his FBI voice. He hailed a cab when he they were done talking and Brennan walked back towards the street to get in the car ahead of him. He told the driver where to go, and settled back into the seat.<p>

"Why couldn't the crime scene techs give us a ride to the station?" she asked.

"Come on, Bones. Even I know you want that evidence processed and copies of everything sent to the Jeffersonian. But they can work faster if they don't have to drop us off. They can also work faster if I don't let you stand over their shoulders while they work. Plus, the Jeffersonian will reimburse you for this cab ride."

"Implying that I will be paying?" she retorted.

He smiled at her and leaned in for a quick kiss. "I love how quick you are."

"My physical speed does not factor into this situation, Booth."

"And how slow you are."

Brennan gave him an annoyed look and waited patiently for the taxi to get through traffic. When it finally did, Booth got out to open her door while she paid, and the two made their way up to the bullpen to regroup with the detectives. They found it in a flurry of movement. Beckett was on the phone while Castle typed away on her computer. Ryan was hastily pulling chairs out of the way in a large interrogation room, and Esposito was nowhere to be found. The din in the large space was louder than Brennan had ever heard. Booth made his way through the other officers and detectives bustling about, and Brennan followed close, using the path his larger build created to avoid running into anyone herself.

"What's going on?" Booth asked Castle.

Brennan got around to Booth's side so she could hear the conversation.

"Not only did we find the van with the license plate the camera caught, but we found ourselves a pretty convincing suspect too." Castle continued typing as he answered.

"What are you doing, Rick?" Brennan asked.

"I'm searching a couple of extra databases for any more info we can get. Beckett doesn't usually let me do this, but she is otherwise occupied." He jerked his head in an upward motion towards Beckett, who was still in conversation on her phone. "They found blood and a box of garbage bags in the van, we found lots of prints. The prints led us to our suspect, who just recently got out of jail. He'd been there for six years."

"That fits the murder timeline pretty well," Booth said.

Brennan watched as the two of them talked about the case. They had clearly resolved whatever issue had been between them, and she was more than glad. If Booth, the man she loved, couldn't get along with Rick, who was like a brother to her, one of the relationships would have to come to an end. She liked this way much better, when she could have both men in her life. She caught the way Castle's arm rested on Beckett's desk in just the right direction so that his fingers brushed hers where she braced herself on the desk as she talked. Brennan knew that if she had noticed it, Booth had too. As long as Booth knew that Castle was interested in someone else, Brennan knew they wouldn't be having any jealousy issues any longer.

Beckett hung up the phone abruptly, but didn't move her hand from the desk. "He's here. Castle, you cannot be in there. You can be in the observation room with the captain. Booth, I'd like you observing too. If you catch anything, let me know. Tempe said you are really good with picking up on subtle movements and words." Beckett sounded authoritative in a way that Brennan had not heard before. It suited Beckett, much the way that a similar tone suited Booth.

"And me?" Brennan asked. She didn't want to be the only one who couldn't watch, but until the evidence was processed, she wouldn't have much to do.

"I'm going to have someone take you to the morgue. Lanie and Perlmutter, our resident medical examiners, will be there waiting for you to help figure out what parts of Hattie we recovered this morning. We also need to verify that it _is_ Hattie, based on more than the blood we found at the crime scene. They'll need you and as much of your Jeffersonian team as you can gather around a computer screen in DC." The elevator dinged and Beckett stood up straight, nodding to Ryan and Esposito. "Castle, show Booth to the observation room," was all she said before she put on a tough face and walked away.

Castle nodded and stood. Booth stepped closer to Brennan. He gave her the quickest of kisses before pulling away. "I'll see you later," he said, following Castle through the desks and chairs. "You go give that victim a voice."


	38. Unfamiliar Territory

Brennan slid out of the cruiser and thanked the patrol cop for the ride. The building she stood outside was not dark and dirty, as Cam had made her believe a New York City morgue would be, though it was clearly not modern. Brennan had never been to this place before, though she had spent time at the forensic biology lab in New York. She could say without reservation that the Department of Forensic Biology's offices were more what she was used to compared to where she was standing now. She took a deep breath, resettled her bag on her shoulder, and walked through the front doors.

A man in a lab coat stood in front of the reception desk looking at his watch. He looked up as the doors clattered shut behind her, and spoke. "Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes."

"I'm Sidney Perlmutter, one of the ME's on the case from this morning. Let's head down." He took off toward an elevator unceremoniously, leaving Brennan to follow him.

Brennan was used to more recognition than Perlmutter had given her. She didn't miss it. This case needed to be solved as soon as possible, and there was no need to stand on ceremony when there was a killer roaming free in New York City.

"We've gotten what little medical information we could on Bridget Hattery. Hopefully you'll be able to find something to connect the pieces we have to the woman. We've already begun running tests on the tissue and blood, so there's no use in asking about them. We'll get the results when we get them. Forensic biology is perpetually backed up—and slow—so it may be all day or all week for all I know. We really just need you to look at the bones and decipher what you can—we've taken care of the rest."

"Thank you. Do you have contact with any forensic anthropologists in the area?" Brennan was hoping that she would have someone who knew how to clean bones. There simply wasn't enough time to send them to the Jeffersonian.

"I'm just a lowly medical examiner, Dr. Brennan. I would think you would have such a contact in your rolodex." She could sense the annoyance in his tone, but ignored it. Booth would probably say she was getting a taste of her own medicine. She stepped off the elevator when it had finished its descent, following Perlmutter down a hallway that much more resembled the morgue she had expected. Down the hallway a set of fluorescent bulbs flickered, their blue-green glow illuminating a shelf of linens in irregular flashes.

Perlmutter's sneakers squeaked on the floor of the hallway. "We're in room four," he told her as he grabbed a set of disposable scrubs from a shelf. He pushed a door open and walked through, holding it for her to come in behind him.

Brennan found the scrubs in her arms as soon as she had set her bag by the door. She took a moment to look around the room. Despite the dim lighting in the hallway, this room was rather bright. Several surgical lights were hanging over the autopsy table, all of them on. Brennan slid the scrubs on over her jeans and t-shirt, and was reaching for the box of gloves Perlmutter was holding out to her when a woman bustled through the door.

"Lanie, where have you been?" Perlmutter asked her.

The woman completely ignored him. "Oh, Dr. Brennan! I'm so glad to meet you! Lanie Parrish, M.E.," she said, putting a hand out.

Brennan extended her own hand, which was shaken very vigorously before it was let go. "Thank you."

"I was just so excited when Kate told me you would be coming down to help. Of course, we hold our own down here, but you are legendary in the field of forensic anthropology and it's just simply not what I specialize in. Obviously I specialize in forensics, since I'm a medical examiner, but I've never received any training in anthropology. Honestly, I can't wait to see you work."

This was the sort of greeting that Brennan was used to getting. While she understood the medical examiner's enthusiasm, Brennan wished she would direct it more towards her job. Or perhaps imbibe less caffeine in the morning. "Well, then, let's do." Brennan grabbed herself a pair of gloves and slipped them on, stepping over to the autopsy table where Perlmutter was standing, cataloguing samples. "Dr. Parrish, could you please set up any medical history x-rays or dental records? I'll need them to compare. I'll also need to clean some of these bones by hand, so I'll need maceration tools and several containers of clean water for soaking them."

"I'd be happy to assist, Dr. Brennan," Lanie said from across the room.

"That won't be necessary. I prefer to do it myself when I don't have a specialized forensic anthropology assistant. Less mistakes are made." Brennan stood still and simply took in the remains of Bridget Hattery. She knew it was in fact the remains of the girl, but she needed to prove it—forensically. Perlmutter continued his work next to her quietly, and she appreciated his non-invasive presence. She could hear papers shuffling behind her and the click of a computer mouse as Lanie organized the medical records. When she had mentally catalogued what was present on the autopsy table, she turned around to face Lanie.

Lanie stood next to a large, flat-screen TV that showed several open windows. "We only have one set of skeletal x-rays, Dr. Brennan, and I'm not sure how much help they will be. They're from her pediatrician, she broke her wrist when she was a child."

"But we don't have her wrists," Brennan said.

"Exactly. We do have dental records as well, and x-rays from about a decade ago from her dentist."

"No skull." Brennan realized she was going to have to get creative.

"The rest," Lanie said, bring up several more windows on the television, "are miscellaneous medical reports from pediatricians and doctors. The only one I can imagine being helpful is the gynecological report from several years back. It seems like she hadn't been to a doctor in some time."

"Addicts often forgo medical care in favor of the rush of hard drugs. This isn't altogether uncommon, Dr. Parrish."

Lanie didn't reply.

Brennan supposed the look she was getting was a bit attitudinal. That's what Booth would say. "What did the gynecological report say? We do have a pelvis."

"That she had a baby at 17."

"That can help us narrow it down, but it's not enough. We could bring in the child and do some DNA comparison."

"She gave the child up for adoption. It would take a while to track her down—if it's even possible."

"Anything else from the doctor?"

"She went to this gynecologist with pain, and after checking her for PID he thought perhaps she had a diastasis of the symphysis pubis. He scheduled her for x-rays, but it looks like she never went back."

"That's good. We'll start with the pelvis then. Dr. Perlmutter, have you finished cataloguing evidence from the pubic bones?" Brennan turned back to the autopsy table.

"It's all yours," he replied.

"And you've done x-rays?"

"Of course, Dr. Brennan. We usually follow protocol around here." His dry tone amused her. People did _not_ usually talk to her like that.

"Please send any and all duplicate samples to the Jeffersonian Institute right away. They can analyze as well and we'll have multiple test results to compare." Brennan set the pelvis on a metal tray and turned back to Lanie. "Maceration tools? Water? We have a killer on the loose, Dr. Parrish, so let's get things going."

Lanie arched an eyebrow, but uncrossed her arms and bustled out of the room.

Brennan set down the tray, and turned back to the TV screen. She absently wondered what Booth was doing. Knowing that thinking of Booth would only get her mind off-track, she ran through the list of recovered body parts again in her head; pubic bones, upper and lower legs. She could get height from the leg bones. With that and the age range she could get from the pelvis, she could make a determination. But she wanted to be sure—without any doubt—that she had Bridget Hattery on this table. Booth, Rick and Kate would need her to have infallible evidence. And she couldn't count on finding any more of the missing girl. If she only had the arms. The wrist break would be definitive. She pulled up the pediatrician's report, correctly assuming that the board had touch-screen capabilities. Glancing through it, she stopped suddenly at the words "heavy bruising on knee—patient only notes typical bruise-related soreness." The patella could show signs of damage. She made a mental note to have the current leg x-rays brought up as soon as she had the pelvis in to soak.

"Dr. Brennan?" Perlmutter asked from beside the autopsy table.

She turned.

"I found a tooth."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Did you think I'd given up on this story? I'm sure some of you may have. But I'm still here. This chapter was short, I know, but since I'm not a scientist there is a limited amount of medical lingo I can include before I start to confuse myself. I will say that the number of hits I have been getting has stayed really strong. I was not expecting that since it had been so long since I posted a chapter! It really motivated me to get back into the swing of writing. So please keep reading, keep reviewing, keep subscribing-it keeps me going. Thanks!**


	39. Flaming EspressoNutters

Castle bolted out of the interrogation viewing room. He had just spent the last hour and a half watching Booth, when he wasn't watching Beckett, and he agreed with what the man was thinking. Of course, he didn't really know what Booth was thinking, but he had a pretty good idea. He was the first person to the murder board and he scanned it quickly for the pieces of paper he wanted. The suspect's background.

The case looked like a home run. They had evidence linking him to at least one of the crimes, which were clearly all related. A little more work from the forensic side of things and it would be easy to put this man away for a long time. Most importantly, he had just confessed to everything. To murder, to mutilating the bodies, and to dumping them. As Beckett had once told him, when the evidence pointed that easily to someone, usually they were the ones who did it. But as he had told her right back, there had to be a better story than that.

They had been working this case on the assumption that there were two suspects: the killer and the cleaner. Castle was sure that was right. But Jordan Veehaus had just claimed he had done it all. Now they needed to figure out whether he was the killer or the cleaner, and who he was protecting. Castle sat down at Beckett's desk with the papers before the bulk of the group had even left the interrogation and viewing rooms. Veehaus didn't really seem like the type to be doing any killing. Then again, he didn't really seem like the type to be cleaning up after a killer either. That meant one of two things.

"Okay, he's either protecting somebody or he is scared to death of somebody," Booth said. The FBI agent approached Beckett's desk. Ryan, Esposito and Beckett trailed behind him.

"If I had to pick one, I'd go with scared to death of somebody. Veehaus was awfully squirrely for a murderer," Esposito added.

Beckett knocked on the top of her desk to get Castle's attention. He looked up and she jerked a thumb toward the chair next to her desk—his chair. He moved quickly, taking the papers with him. She sat and looked at the men surrounding her. "What the hell do we even know about this guy? I thought this was going to be a hardened criminal, not some twerpy character from Queens."

"After reading this background, I'm definitely not getting the hardened criminal vibe. Sure, he went to prison, but even that case looks too easy." Castle said as he continued to scan the pages he had picked up. "Drug charges and attempted murder. Veehaus confessed after not a whole lot of questioning. They put him away. It was a simple case."

"Confessed? Anybody else think this sounds familiar?" Booth asked.

"One thing is for sure: these cases are starting to get more press." Beckett leaned forward onto her elbows and rested her chin in her folded hands. "We are going to have the DA's office down our throats if we don't figure this out soon. They'll be happy to put Veehaus away if we don't give them anyone else. It's a slam dunk as far as they will be concerned."

"And if the murders continue?" Castle asked.

"They'll throw us under the bus." Now Beckett was rubbing her temples. "Where do we go from here?"

"We need to start over. Take Veehaus's name and pictures to everybody who was already questioned. We also need more info on this guy. Where did he come from? Who is his family? Does he have some buddies from jail who can shed some light?" Booth clearly understood somebody needed to take point.

Castle appreciated it. Beckett was burnt-out and he wasn't fairing much better. With the FBI resources, and Ryan and Esposito, Booth would be able to take a couple more steps in the right direction.

"Ryan, Espo, why don't you take the people we've already questioned. Boyfriends, families, friends, anyone. Somebody has to recognize Veehaus," Beckett said. "Booth?"

"Let me call Bones. I'll see where she stands and then I'll figure out what the FBI can do. That leaves you with Veehaus's history. Jail records, old neighbors, anything."

"We have to write his story backwards," Castle said with a smile. "That I can do." He looked over at Beckett. She nodded to Booth and the boys, who all departed, but otherwise hadn't moved. "Are you okay?"

Her face went down into her hands. "Just when I thought we had gotten somewhere."

"And we have to start over?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry about it. Veehaus will lead us there. All we have to do is learn Veehaus's language so we can read the road signs. Come on, we get to figure out his story. That's what we're good at." He suppressed the urge to stand up and give her shoulders a rub. Then he suppressed the urge to at least lay a hand on her arm in comfort.

"No, Castle. That's what you're good at."

"Kate, when are you going to realize that I'm no good here without you? I'm only a part of the crime-solving puzzle."

She raised her head from her hands and looked at him.

"Look, Booth is great at solving the why side of crime, but without Tempe, he doesn't have the how. Tempe is amazing at listening to the dead, but without Booth she wouldn't have the power to do anything with what she heard. They're two halves of the whole. Without each other, the crimes don't get solved. We are the same."

"Speak for yourself. I was solving crimes just fine before you came along." Her lips quirked into a half-smile.

He raised one eyebrow at her. "Well I know you don't keep me around for kicks, so obviously I'm helping somehow." He knew part of her kept him around because she liked him being there. But he also knew that without him there would be a couple of murderers still loose in New York City, and some innocent people in jail.

"I get it, Castle. Without you, the story isn't as clear; sometimes it's not there at all. Your stories have helped us dig deeper and find the truth more times than I can count now."

"And without you, I'm just a lonely novelist coming up with fake murders."

"I don't remember you being very 'lonely' the night we met. You practically offered to sign my chest."

"I did no such thing."

"There was a permanent marker headed that direction."

"Hey, where you wanted the marker to go was up to you."

"Because you're so good at following orders," she retorted sarcastically.

"On certain occasions I would be more than happy to oblige your commands." He added a little eyebrow waggle in the hope that he would get to see—

Yes, there it was. The famous Beckett eye roll. "We are wasting time we should be using to figure out Veehaus," she said

"True, but at least we are having fun again. You take jail time notes and I'll take history?" Castle asked, holding up two sets of papers in his hands.

"That's fine."

He handed her the pile in his left hand. "Coffee?"

"Castle, you need to get reading. We don't have time for you to spend the next 30 minutes creating some caramel and whipped cream espresso concoction with a ridiculous name."

"How long do you think it will take you to read those papers?" he asked her, nodding at the papers she had just set down on her desk.

"I don't know. Twenty minutes?"

"Then I have twenty minutes to kill," he responded, setting down the papers in his right hand and getting up from her desk.

"Oh no, Castle. Get back here, and do your half of the work," Beckett said, spinning her chair to face him.

"Oh, I already did—while you were leaving the interrogation and talking to the boys. Veehaus's history painted a lovely picture. Horrible childhood, terrible neighborhood, dead grandmother. He even went to a tragically underfunded school, where he met up with some interesting characters. We should probably talk to some of them next—specifically one Joe Keyer." Castle knew she would recognize the name of the annoying bar owner. "His name stood right out to me. But I wouldn't want you to skip the jail notes in case there is something more pressing in there." He smiled sweetly at her. "Why don't you just read those so we are both up to speed on our respective duties and I'll reward you with a flaming espresso-nutter." He turned and headed into the break room without looking back. He could feel her icy stare on his back and decided that a screaming hot, candy bar-flavored beverage would warm her up in no time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah, it was short. And I wasn't entirely happy with the ending. But it also featured my favorite chapter title ever. I can't believe the next one will be chapter 40.  
><strong>


	40. A Lead

**A/N: Well, chapter 40 took long enough, don't you think? I don't know if I hit a wall or just lost track of time, but here it is. Phew. Only a couple more chapters to go, I think. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for reading, 40 chapters later.  
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><p>"I've looked at it a dozen times, Booth. This is not Bridget Hattery's tooth. Of course I am aware that we didn't recover a head. Yes, I checked the dental records. Yes, I triple-checked them. I don't know that yet." Brennan flipped through pages in the paper file as well as scrolling through the electronic files on the large screen in front of her. "I've already arranged to have the tooth sent to the Jeffersonian. Cam and Hodgins should be able to get something."<p>

She could sense Dr. Parrish listening in on her conversation. Perhaps she had been a little unkind to the medical examiner, but Brennan really couldn't abide by people wasting time when time was so important.

"There's something else, Booth. I was already decidedly certain that these were the remains of Bridget Hattery, but patella damage sustained from a childhood wrist injury was still evident." She sighed. "No, patella is knee cap. Well, she fell and presumably braced herself with her wrist and knee. The knee was only bruised externally, but I'm seeing small signs of internal damage as well. Yes, I know it's not much, but it is something. She also had a child at the age of seventeen. I'm waiting for the pelvis to finish soaking so I can examine the bones. Between those two things, height from the femurs, and approximate age, I can make a pretty compelling argument that these are the pelvis and leg bones of Bridget Hattery."

His next words irritated her. "I always do as much as I can, Booth. I've never given you or any case less than my full attention. If I find something, you'll be one of the first to hear about it. It's alright, I'm not angry. Okay, good-bye."

"Everything alright, Dr. Brennan?" Dr. Parrish asked.

"The suspect they had confessed, but Booth, Kate, and Rick are more than certain he is covering up for somebody. I would presume that the owner of this tooth could be that somebody." Brennan placed the tooth carefully into a plastic evidence container, sealed it properly, and inserted it into a small box for transport. She handed it to the medical examiner. "This needs to get to the Jeffersonian as fast as possible. Please make sure the courier upstairs is aware of that." She paused, considering her tone and the look Dr. Parrish was giving her. "Though I'm sure you already knew that. Thank you, Dr. Parrish," she added reverently.

The woman's face softened a bit before she headed out the swinging doors and toward the elevator. Turning toward the TV screen, Brennan opened a program and sent a video request to the Jeffersonian.

Cam face appeared on the screen almost immediately. "Dr. Brennan, hello. Were you able to get the tooth out yet?"

"I've just had it taken out to the courier, so you should get the tooth by tomorrow morning at the very latest. Mitochondrial DNA from that tooth would be the best thing I can offer toward the killer."

"No other suspects?" she asked.

"One, but they think he was lying when he confessed. We think he was trying to protect the person to which that tooth belongs. It's crucial we get DNA results as quickly as possible, and anything particulates can give us would be a welcoming back-up factor."

"I'll call Hodgins and get him up here first thing in the morning. We also have Clark here this week, to make sure new-baby sleep deprivation doesn't cause any errors."

"Good. This needs to be as solid a case as possible. Most of our current evidence is supportive, but not truly definitive. Call me as soon as you know anything."

"You know we will." Cam reached forward, as though to end the video link.

"Cam?" Brennan asked, stopping her.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"

"How is Angela doing? I feel as though I am being a bad friend for not being there right after she had the baby. I've barely even had time to talk to her."

"She's doing great. I understand where you are coming from, but for right now Hodgins and Angela really just need some alone time to bond with Michael. Call Angela when you get a chance, but she would hardly blame you for trying to put a serial killer away." Cam's face showed sympathy.

"Thank you, Cam."

The medical examiner smiled briefly before the screen turned black.

Brennan turned back toward the autopsy table. Perlmutter had stepped out to run some tests, and Lanie had not yet returned from the ground level of the morgue. She grabbed the closest stool, sat, and bent over the pieces of bone that lay on the table, hoping to find something she hadn't seen yet. There wasn't much hope in that—it was up to the cops and the Jeffersonian scientists now. She felt as if a phrase she had heard Booth use would apply to her current situation. "The ball is on the court," she mumbled under her breath. Or something like that.

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><p>Beckett blew gently on the hot cup of coffee Castle had set on her desk with the pomp and circumstance of a sommelier at a fine dining restaurant before he disappeared back into the break room. "I know Lanie, but come on. She's brilliant, can't you just take her at face value? I'm sure she wasn't trying to be rude. Well, that's just kind of who she is." Beckett couldn't help but chuckle at her best friend's expense. "I'm not really surprised that she gets along with Perlmutter, are you? Okay, I'll have Castle talk to her. Just try to cut her some slack, Lanie, there's a lot riding on the science for this case—and we need to solve this thing as quickly as possible. Okay. And Lanie? Please don't smack her. I'm pretty sure she has a black belt in krav maga or something equally scary so I doubt you would come out on top. Yeah, bye."<p>

Finally managing to get a sip of the ridiculously named drink in front of her, which she had to admit was delicious, she went back to where she had left off on the jail notes for Veehaus. He had been incarcerated for six years and no matter how much she tried reading into subtext, there was not a single behavioral complaint about him. He had gotten in with the right people—criminals—by giving bribes and doing odd jobs. The officers who had contact with him approved of his quiet and undemanding, but sharp and quick-witted demeanor. The people writing these notes wrote with an echo of respect for Veehaus.

Beckett got that. She understood and respected that he had been able to keep himself out of trouble in jail. But the way he had ended up there—and probably would this time around too—was anything but smart. Her mind was circling around something, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Time to clear her head. She concluded her reading, had several more gulps of the coffee concoction, and looked around for Castle. She spotted him chatting up one of the other detectives in the break room, but stealing glances at her every few moments.

He beamed at her when they made eye contact, then excused himself from the conversation with a smile. "What did you think?" he asked when he finally reached her desk.

"He's not a troublemaker. If I hadn't agreed before, I'd be sure now that Veehaus is not our man."

"I meant the drink," he replied, pointing to the mug in her hand.

"Oh. It's good. Thanks." She paused to take another sip. "Anyway, there was nothing but good behavior reports in the jail notes. He knows how to handle himself among the tough guys, that's for sure. There's not really anything we can look into from the jail angle."

"Unless we run out of other options. So, are we off to see our favorite bar owner?"

"I suppose. I told Booth to call me if he or Brennan came up with anything. He said he would reconvene with Ryan and Espo if he hit a road block." Beckett stood and grabbed her blazer and effects. As she struggled to juggle her phone and keys while putting her blazer on, gentle hands lifted the tan fabric and slid it up her arms to settle cleanly on her shoulders. As Castle's hands smoothed out the shoulders and back of the blazer, lingering slightly on her frame, she looked around nervously.

"Nobody's watching," he whispered from behind her as his arms fell back to his sides.

Beckett cleared her throat awkwardly, nodded to him, and headed to the elevator. Once she was safely inside, Castle standing a hair closer than usual, she finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I just don't want anyone at the precinct to—I don't know. _Know_."

"It's fine," he replied. "Sometimes I get a little ahead of myself. So, I was thinking we should go out."

"Like a date?" she asked. The elevator doors slid open and she slipped out ahead of him. Hoping Castle would get the message and keep quiet until they were in the car and out of earshot of any of her colleagues, she stayed ahead of him and climbed into the driver's seat of the car quickly.

"Not _like_ a date, Kate. A date," he stated when he was seated next to her in the car and buckling his seat belt. He paused, then laughed. "A date with Kate."

Kate rolled her eyes at his childish rhyme. "You're a poet and you don't even know it."

"So, what do you say?"

She pretended to think really hard, and chewed on the inside of her lip so it would look like she was really unsure. When she saw his face fall, the corners of his mouth drooping down, she cracked a smile. After she could tell he knew what her game was, she started the car.

"Not nice, Beckett," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

She laughed aloud at that. "Yes, Rick. I'd love to go on a date with you. But we should probably wait until the case is over."

"Alright. Am I allowed to kiss you again before that?"

"If you do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Call Tempe and warn her that if she isn't a little nicer to Lanie, she is going to get smacked." With the sound of Castle's laughter filling the vehicle, she pulled out into traffic.

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><p>When Booth saw Beckett and Castle climb into her car, he stopped to watch. He leaned against the stone of the building, his finger hovering over the call button on his phone. The detective and writer didn't pull away from the curb immediately, and he could see them having a lighthearted discussion. Then Castle's face fell in disappointment, only to be followed by a sly smile from Beckett. A few moments later the two were laughing aloud, and then they were pulling away into traffic. There was definitely something going on between them. Something had changed since the first interaction Booth had with the partners.<p>

But he still had a job to do. With Brennan certain she had Bridget Hattery and the tooth of the killer, the ball was in the cops' court. They had swabbed Veehaus for DNA and as soon as Cam could get him something to compare it to, the team could move. Perhaps Beckett and Castle had a lead and were on their way to getting something new. Ryan and Esposito were probably still inside making calls or on their way out to start showing Veehaus's mug shot around. That left Booth with one last thing he could try. His finger pressed the call button finally, dialing the number that he had written down after talking to his superior in DC.

"Agent Denton, my name is Agent Seeley Booth and I am consulting on a case here in New York. I was hoping you might be able to give me a hand. You're focused on narcotics, right? Great. Can you hang on, let me get to a desk? Thanks, just a second." Booth dashed up the precinct steps and over to Beckett's desk—it was closer than the one they had given him. Grabbing the case file from her stack and a notepad and pen, he put the phone back up to his ear.

"Okay, Denton. I'm working a serial homicide case with the NYPD, and we have a drug dealer on the loose killing his buyers. Then we find the bodies in pieces, tossed away in garbage bags. Where?" Booth rattled off the list of locations the victims had been found as well as their apartment addresses. "Well, there have been rumors floating around for weeks now. They are all saying the dealer is crazy. Yeah, I know it isn't much to go on. But what we have found is that the killer isn't the same person as the one who is chopping them up and distributing them to local dumpsters. Now we are pretty sure we have that guy, but the killer is still out there. Think you could put out some feelers?"

Ryan and Esposito stepped off the elevator as Booth scribbled several phone numbers, an email address, and then related his and Beckett's contact information to Denton. "Yep, I hope to hear from you soon."

"You got something, Booth? Because we have absolutely no hits so far," Esposito said as he approached Beckett's desk.

"I just had a local FBI narco agent put out some feelers, but that's it. Nobody recognized Veehaus?"

"Nope. One person said he looked kind of familiar, but that doesn't mean much in New York City," Ryan added. "Where'd Beckett and Castle go?"

"Don't know, but I'm sure they were following a lead. Let's hope they get something then, shall we?" Booth was feeling hopelessness starting to sink in. "Brennan found a tooth in the remains of Bridget Hattery. It's on its way to the Jeffersonian for DNA testing. We're thinking it belonged to our killer. If it doesn't match Veehaus, then we can be sure we were right about him. It's not much, but it is something. I'm thinking a dealer will have enough priors that the DNA will get him." His phone chimed. Looking down, he stood up. "You guys want to come with me to the morgue? Brennan is done there for the day."

Ryan jabbed Esposito in the arm playfully and waggled his eyebrows. "Well, Esposito definitely wants to go so he can see Lanie."

"Dude, shut up."

"Lanie Parrish, the ME giving Bones attitude?" Booth asked.

"Oh yeah, that's her," Esposito confirmed, following the agent to the elevator.

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><p>"Oh, Moira, don't you look just stunning today," Castle quipped as he approached the woman standing behind the bar. "You wouldn't be able to whip up something for me to eat, would you? This detective had me out of bed before the sun was up and I'm starting to wilt without sustenance."<p>

"I think I can manage," Moira Keyer replied, to the chagrin of her husband. "You're welcome to come help, Mr. Castle." She practically purred as his name came out of her lips.

"I think Beckett here may need my help with your husband."

"She ain't the only one. How about a sandwich and some chips?"

"Perfect," Castle replied, then watched as she sidled away and into the kitchen. He made sure she saw that he was looking at her, then brushed it off to turn back to Beckett.

"That's odd, Joe," she was saying to the man while she pointed at the mug shot of Veehaus. "Because I looked back at who he used to hang out with. Guess who I found?" After a beat, she continued. "This isn't a trick question, Joe."

After a beat, the bar owner dropped his attitude. "Okay, I knew him. The key word there is _knew_. As in it's in the past. I don't talk to him no more. Haven't in years."

"Well, that's not surprising," Castle said. "He's been in jail for drugs and attempted murder."

The man's eyebrows raised. "Oh, come on. Murder? Drugs? Jordan? No way."

Castle wasn't as good at reading people as Beckett, but even he could tell the man was truly surprised.

"Maybe he didn't hang out with the best guys, but he was a stand up. Of all of us, he was the one you could trust. He was the one you went to when you needed advice. He was clean."

Beckett tightened her lips as her shoulders tensed. "And what about the rest of the gang from the old days, huh? You see any of them lately?"

Keyer clammed up. Castle could almost hear the grinding as his jaw clenched shut.

"Joe, I'm not looking to charge you with anything. Just tell me who you have seen lately." Beckett adjusted her stance like she was preparing for the worst. Like she was ready for Keyer to take off and she was going to chase him down before he reached the door. "This is serious. If you've seen anyone related to Veehaus lately, I have to know. Before someone else gets killed, Joe."

Keyer took a deep breath, then leaned forward at Beckett, like he was about to tell her a secret. "I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but you're asking about Jordan. When we were kids, there was this little guy that used to follow us around. Jordan always looked out for him—more than he did for any of us. We used to tease the kid, and Jordan would always get on us about it."

"You saw him? Recently?" Castle asked, a little too enthusiastically. This could be the break they needed, and Castle needed it to be. He needed this case to be done so he could take Beckett out.

"Yeah, actually, I did. He came in a couple of weeks ago."

"Who did?" Moira asked as she came out from the kitchen and set a plate down in front of Castle.

"Moira, why do you always stick your nose where it don't belong?" Joe asked, turning to her.

"Don't you start with me, Joe. I run this place more than you do. You wouldn't be able to go on without me. Now who were you talking about coming in?"

Castle took a deep breath while they bickered. He had waited for Beckett for 4 years, what was a couple more days while they solved the case? He sank into a bar stool and dug into the sandwich and chips Moira had made for him, listening as he chewed. Beckett sank into a stool herself when the couple really lit into each other and snagged a chip from his plate. He offered her the other half of the sandwich, which she took after letting out a long sigh and rolling her eyes in Moira and Joe's direction.

Castle chuckled. "Remind you of anyone?" he whispered.

"Ryan and Esposito?" she asked.

"Well, yeah, but I was going to go with us," he replied. He watched her ponder his comment.

"I guess we do kind of bicker like a married couple."

Castle's heart skipped a beat.

"Enough of this," Beckett mumbled, dusting crumbs from her fingers. "Hey!" she shouted at Joe and Moira to get their attention. "Okay, you two. Will someone just tell me the name of this guy?"

"Benjamin Marcus," Joe said. "His name is Benjamin Marcus."

Castle sighed in relief. Finally, a lead.

"And a crazy one he is, too," Moira added.


	41. Hockey and Love

**A/N: I'm back! Well, I never really went anywhere, but my muse seemed to have taken a long vacation. Combine that with being extra busy at work and, well, you get the picture. But some recent reviews have really touched me and got me back into writing.**

**Now, this chapter was supposed to focus on the now named suspect from the end of last chapter. But something kind of took the reins and it just wrote something completely different. Since I wasn't unhappy with it, I decided to keep it. So here it is: Chapter 41.  
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><p>"I don't know what to tell you guys. They can't find him. I've got FBI looking for him, you've got NYPD looking for him, so for now we have to wait." Booth paced the conference room. He hated this part of crime-solving. Waiting was not something he had the patience for. He looked over to see Brennan sending him sympathetic glances in between typing emails. At least she could use the time to catch up with her publisher and try to make some progress on her next book. Booth knew he was stuck pacing and checking his phone.<p>

"Well, Booth," Beckett said as she rose from a chair, "if there's nothing we can do here, I'll send the boys home for a little break. We've been at it all day, so I think we should all grab some food and try to sleep a bit. They probably won't find him tonight, so let's give them a chance to get some leads for us to chase down tomorrow."

"It's easy to slip away in the night anyway," Esposito added. "If you're sure, Beckett, I'm out."

"Yep, me too," Ryan said. "Jenny's been all over me about not helping with the wedding planning."

The two detectives made a hasty exit, as though he would stop them. Looking over at Beckett, Booth could see that she was quite tired herself. "Beckett, Castle, you too," he told them. "Come on Bones, pack it up. We can chill at the hotel for a while."

"We should pick up dinner on the way back," she said in reply.

"Sure, Bones. What do you feel like?"

"Eating. Didn't you hear me?"

Booth's shoulders slumped. "What kind of food would you like to eat?" Sometimes, she was cute. Other times, when he was tired, he just felt defeated when he had to rephrase himself for her.

"Why don't we all go out to eat?" Castle asked.

Beckett tried to slyly jab him in the ribs, and if Booth hadn't already seen it, it would have been hard to miss the writer losing his balance and tripping over his chair.

"Jeez, Beckett. You don't have to knock me down for trying to be polite to the out-of-towners." He placed a hand to his ribcage where her elbow had nudged him as though he was in pain—overdramatically, as usual.

Booth looked at Brennan and raised his eyebrows to question whether or not she would mind. He usually wasn't the double date type, but he was longing for some talk that wasn't about murder. Though honestly, between the homicide detective, mystery novelist, and forensic anthropologist, there probably wouldn't be much else to talk about. Brennan shrugged in response, which for her meant that she didn't really understand why there were dramatics going on over the question anyway. "Sounds good," Booth answered for both of them.

"Somewhere I can get a vegetarian meal," Brennan said.

"And if possible, some TV's," Booth added. "Stanley Cup Playoffs."

Beckett and Castle looked at each other. It looked like they were having a silent conversation. There were miniscule movements of eyebrows, shoulders, and lips, but no actual sound. Suddenly, both their eyes widened and they smiled at each other. "Zach's," they said in unison.

Booth would have laughed if he wasn't so impressed with their obvious connection. They probably finished each other's sentences too. He grabbed Brennan's bag and shouldered it as they filed out of the conference room. He figured this would either be a fun night, or an incredibly long, boring night.

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><p>"I mean, it was really great to meet Natalie Rhodes," Beckett said.<p>

"But honestly, by the time she left we were all ready to get rid of her," Castle said.

"Because she started to get really creepy, dressing up like me—"

"And Beckett was pretty sure Natalie was going to kill her in her sleep and assume her identity."

"You weren't?" she asked him in reply. "Oh, that's right. You made out with her in the elevator. You probably would have liked for her to stick around a little longer." She pointed a finger directly at him, her eyes narrowed though she smiled broadly.

"Well it's farther than you ever let me get," he replied sarcastically, tipping his drink toward her to make his point.

Booth watched the interplay with a smile. They really did finish each other's sentences. He took a drink of his beer and glanced up at the TV over the rim of the pint glass. It was just in time to catch the opposing team score on his goalie. The wail of the horn was faint in the din of the bar, but he could see the flashing light from behind the net. "Damn it! Come on, guys! Where in the hell is the defense?"

When he set his beer back down and turned his attention back to Brennan, Beckett, and Castle, he was met with a different look from each of them. Beckett was laughing and he presumed she was the only one who understood why he had yelled at all. Brennan looked at him in confusion, something that Booth was used to seeing where sports were concerned. Castle's expression was a curious one—as though he had just revealed something to the writer. Booth couldn't yet tell if whatever he had disclosed was in his favor or against. He had a feeling he would find that out soon.

"Come on, Booth," Beckett said in between sips of her drink. "Just admit that your defense blew that."

"You better not be a Bruins fan, detective."

"I can be, when my Rangers aren't making the cut."

"I believe my other team kicked some Ranger butt," Booth replied. The Capitals had, in fact, already kicked some Ranger butt. But they were also losing their series with Tampa Bay rather fiercely.

"You better be careful, Booth. Beckett here can be a ruthless hockey fan when she wants to," Castle interjected.

"How did you know that, Castle?" she asked, genuine surprise showing on her face.

"You have two hockey jerseys taking up residence next to your winter coats. A couple of weeks ago your Rangers jersey was in a dry cleaning bag, which I assume meant you wore it and it got dirty. And when I came over last week, you very quickly changed the channel, but not before I saw you watching Hockey Night in Canada." Castle smiled and motioned for another round of drinks.

"You think you are so observant, Castle," she said sarcastically. "What other team's jersey do I own, and whose jersey is it?"

"I accept your challenge," he replied. "You also own the home jersey of the famous Detroit Red Wings player Gordie Howe—number 9."

"I'm impressed, Beckett," Booth said. "I wouldn't take you for a hockey fan. Cops usually go for baseball." He was starting to like this Beckett-Castle duo more and more. Beckett was clearly a bit of a sports fan, but apparently Castle knew his stuff too.

"She likes that too," Castle said before Beckett could even open her mouth. "But that is where I leave you two, as I find baseball incredibly dull." With that, Castle turned his attention to Brennan, who had done nothing but observe the sports-related interchange and was starting to look rather bored.

Booth tuned out the science speak and focused on Beckett. "Yankees or Mets?"

"Oh no," she said, taking a fresh beer from the waitress. "I am not taking that bait. We're already on opposing sides in hockey."

"I'm going to go with Yanks," he said back.

"You do that. I'm still not going to give you an answer." She watched the television over his head as he watched the one over hers. "Your Flyers are going down tonight, Booth."

Booth watched her eyes follow the quick movement of the puck over the ice. They sparked with excitement as the fast-paced game reached the end of the second period. It was no wonder what Castle saw in this woman. She was an incredibly passionate, driven woman who took time to enjoy the little things in life. Not to mention she was hot. He was attracted to her, of course, but he really was a one woman man—and that one woman was Bones. Beckett was attractive, but Brennan made him go weak at the knees. If he was put in a situation where he had to pick one over the other, he would pick his partner. And he wouldn't regret it.

He changed his attention to Castle and Brennan without moving anything except his eyes, trying to keep them from noticing he was watching. They were deep in conversation, and he wondered just how he could have thought they were more than friends. There was love between them, but it wasn't romantic. Brennan looked at Castle the same way she looked at Russ. Castle was her big brother, a mentor—nothing more. As the writer chuckled and wrapped an arm around Brennan's shoulder, she met Booth's eyes. Love twinkled there, and perhaps a little bit of lust. It didn't matter that Booth knew there was nothing going on between them—seeing another man put an arm around the woman he loved had him roaring to show off his dominance.

When Castle dropped his arm from Brennan's shoulder to whisper something to Beckett, Booth turned to his partner. He put his mouth close to her ear and let his voice go a bit gravelly. "Bones, you want to get out of here?"

The lust in her eyes doubled as she took a sip of her drink. The sip turned into a gulp as she finished it. "Yes."

"Well, folks, we'll probably have an early morning tomorrow, so Bones and I are going to turn in." He stood and lifted a hand to help Brennan up as well. "Plus, I can't stand to watch my Flyers take such a beating. See you both tomorrow."

As he and Brennan headed towards the door, he could swear he heard Castle say, "Gee I wonder what _they_ are going to do tonight."

Later, as Booth urgently pressed Brennan into the hotel room mattress, their lips battling and soothing simultaneously, he wondered if Brennan sucking him into this investigation wasn't one of the best things that had ever happened to him.


	42. Playing Games

**And you thought I disappeared. Nope. Just writers' block. Now this chapter was supposed to be all case, not romance. But then the Castle finale happened, and, well, my mind clearly needed an outlet after some time to process it. There aren't any spoilers here, don't worry. Just a lot of fun between two partners. **

**Thanks to all the recent reviews! I can't believe the hits this story still gets on a daily basis. It is really, really great to see that people are reading and rereading this. And FYI, this story has been translated into French (up to chapter 14, currently, with the same title) by the wonderful fandebones, for those of you who might enjoy it in a different language!  
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><p>"I seriously cannot believe you, Castle. Stop playing with people."<p>

"Beckett, I live to play with people. They just make it so easy."

"Manipulation is not a turn on."

"It is for the person doing the manipulating," he replied. Castle was pretty proud of himself after their little double date. All he had to do was take Brennan's attention away from Booth, slide an arm around her shoulders, and watch as Booth stepped up to claim his territory. If he wasn't mistaken, they were already back in their hotel room getting it on. They could thank him later.

Beckett leaned forward, and he realized her entire demeanor had changed. She took a long, slow sip of her drink, licked her lips, and got right up in his face. A glance down gave him quite the view of the inside of her shirt. Her eyes sparkled, darkened with what seemed to be lust, as she whispered in his ear. "Are you?"

He took a breath and swallowed before he could speak. "Am I what?" Things were starting to get uncomfortable. In a good way.

"Are you turned on?"

Another gulp of air. He could practically taste the alcohol she had just been drinking. "Uh, well, I…."

And just like that, she backed off. She flipped back to regular Beckett mode and plopped back down into the barstool. "I guess you were right. It is kind of a turn on." She drained the glass and walked over to set it near the kitchen sink.

Castle was incredibly glad she had agreed to come back to his place. After all, Booth and Brennan had turned in pretty early. It had only been 9:30 when they made their way out of Zach's, and despite Castle being in desperate need of sleep, he didn't want to say goodnight to his partner. He watched as Beckett pulled a fresh glass from his cabinet and filled it with water. He drained his own drink and stood to put it near the sink as well. If she was going to manipulate him, he was going to get some payback. He grabbed ice from the freezer and walked up behind her to press her against the counter. He reached around her and slipped the ice into her water glass as she held it. "Thought you might want to cool down," he said to her.

"Castle," she mumbled. "Stop."

"No."

"Rick." There was a warning tone when she said his name, but there was more than that—she was turned on too.

He pulled the glass of water from her hand and set it on the counter before turning her around to face him. "Come on, Kate. Will you just kiss me already?"

And she did. Did she ever. She took his breath away. She pushed forward so hard he quickly felt his back thump into the opposite counter. Her hands slid up his chest to hold tightly to his shoulders. Rick realized he was quickly losing control over the situation. While that might not usually be a bad thing—and he certainly was used to a lack of control when Kate Beckett was around—control was kind of the point of manipulation. He flipped them and pressed her into the counter again. One hand tangled in her long hair, mercifully set free from her bun when they arrived at the loft, the other pulled her hips as close to his as possible.

A little moan came from within her, and he knew victory was his. He dragged his lips from hers and traced a line down her neck from ear to collarbone. As he latched on to the base of her neck and she let another moan slip from her lips, he realized that this was way past one-upping each other. Hell, playing manipulation games with Kate was one of the sexiest things that had ever happened to him. But when he was with her, he didn't want to be playing.

"You win," Kate whispered. It was as if she was reading his mind.

He pulled his face back to look at her. Her head was still tilted back from his assault on her neck. Her eyes were still closed and it looked like she was just waiting for him to touch her again. "Kate," he said.

Her eyes opened enough to meet his.

"I wasn't really playing anymore. You have to know that this is so much more than—"

"Mind games?" she finished for him. "I know, Rick. Doesn't mean it isn't fun though."

He chuckled before tightening his arms around her again. They kissed again, this time on even footing. He tugged her toward the living room, toppling them down on the couch. He was starting to wonder how far they would be going tonight on this couch when she vibrated beneath him. He literally felt vibration coursing between them and he paused. "Kate?"

She sighed when he stopped, and slid a hand between them. His mind temporarily forgot about the vibrating and went immediately back to how far they were going to get tonight. He felt her hand lower and lower on his abdomen and took in a sharp breath.

Kate giggled at him. "Castle, my phone is in my front pocket. I'm just getting it because it is ringing."

Dawn broke through the haze in his head. Her phone was vibrating. She was just grabbing her phone out of her pocket. He ordered himself to breathe and lift his body off of hers.

"Beckett," she practically growled into the phone. But her face went from annoyance to surprise very quickly. "Seriously? Okay, but you've got the place under surveillance? Good. No, I'll come in. You listen to me, Benjamin Marcus is currently our number one suspect and I will be there when you bring him in, got it? Thank you."

Castle sighed. Another sleepless night was ahead of them.

Beckett met his eyes when she ended the call. "They found his place. Marcus isn't there, but they're waiting for him to come back. We'll get him by tomorrow morning if we're lucky."

"And you're going in to wait?" Castle asked her.

She nodded in apology. "I won't be able to sleep anyway, knowing we are this close."

He pushed up so he was standing next to the couch. "I'll come with you. Come on," he said, offering his hand to help her up.

Beckett took his hand but didn't move. "I'm so sorry, Castle. I just—I have to be there."

"Kate, I know. I'm not upset. Why don't you get up and get some coffee going in the kitchen? We are going to need it. I'm going to take quick shower and change and we can be on our way. Do you want to stop at your place?"

She pulled herself up off the couch. "No, I've got spare clothes at the precinct."

She began to walk to the kitchen, but Castle's hand didn't let go of hers and he swiftly pulled her back to him. He kissed her softly, both hands reaching up to cup her face. He took in the moment as best he could, burning it into his memory, then let her go gently. "Coffee," he reminded her when neither moved from their embrace.

"Right. Coffee. I'm on it."

He paused at his bedroom doorway to watch her move around the kitchen. He was pretty sure he had never seen a more beautiful sight than Kate Beckett making coffee in his kitchen, looking slightly mussed and flushed from their make out session. He turned to his room, entered the bathroom, and set the shower temperature as cold as it could go.

* * *

><p>Castle was just about to nod off at Beckett's desk when she emerged from the depths of the precinct. Her hair was wet and pulled back out of her face and she was dressed in a slightly more casual outfit—denim trousers and a long sleeved thermal shirt. Castle could still see the bags under her eyes, but clearly a shower and change of clothes had refreshed her. Maybe the hint of pink in her cheeks was still leftover from the scene in his loft. He could only hope.<p>

"I just got off the phone with the surveillance team. They say there is no activity yet. They don't expect him to get back to his place until the morning. We've got some time to kill. But if I don't hear from them again by 4:00, we are going down there to wait for him ourselves." She plopped unceremoniously into her desk chair. "Should we call Tempe and Booth?"

Castle shook his head. "Why don't we let them have their fun this time," he replied.

"Why? We didn't get ours."

She sounded irritable, which didn't bode well for him for the next five hours. He cocked an eyebrow at her and tried to ease the tension. "Don't even get me started, Detective. Do you know how cold that shower I took was?"

"About as painfully cold as the one I just took?" Her face was now turning devilish. She was playing with fire, and right in the middle of the 12th. Of course, there wasn't really anybody around at 11:30 at night.

Still, Beckett was openly flirting with him at her place of employment. After several lust-filled moments of eye contact, he shook himself out of it. "We have to stop, Beckett. I really don't want to have to use the precinct showers—they're kind of gross."

She shook her head as if she was shaking the tension off as well. "Right, sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Get me hot? Don't worry Kate, I've been hanging around you long enough to keep that under control. The difference now is that we were rather intimately pressed together on my couch about an hour ago. And if we keep flirting, I'm not going to be able to continue ignoring that fact, and I'm going to want to do it again. Despite the several dreams I've had about you on this here desk, this really isn't the time or the place to enact such fantasies."

"Agreed. Well, I've got a backlog of paperwork from our last case, and we can always stare at the murder board for a while. Or take turns napping in the break room." She dug into a desk drawer and retrieved a stack of file folders, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

He whimpered at the simple maneuver. How did she have the ability to melt him into goo just by tucking hair behind her ear? He needed to be away from her for a bit, for his own sanity. "You tackle the paperwork, I'll take first turn at napping," he told her.

He could sense the eye roll as he walked away.

* * *

><p>"So much for taking turns." Beckett was clearly not in a good mood, but she said the words softly.<p>

Castle opened his eyes. It was still dark in the break room. In fact, if he shut his eyes again he could imagine being at home in his bed with Kate waking him up after a long night of—

"Up, Castle. Come on." She whipped the blanket off him.

"Rude," he said to her. "What's up?"

She filled him in as he rose and approached the espresso machine. There had been no word from the surveillance team, it was now 4:30 in the morning, and they were going down there. She had sent Booth a text message, but he hadn't yet replied.

"Give the man a break," he told her. "He had a wonderful night with his girlfriend and he's sleeping it off. Latte to go?"

"Yeah. Give me an extra shot or I might not make it."

He paused to look at her. Whatever the shower had done to refresh her, the following few hours of work had sucked right back out. "Kate, you could have woken me up earlier so you could get some sleep yourself. I wouldn't have minded."

"It's fine. I don't know if I would have been able to sleep anyway. Besides, you're an old man. You need your rest to keep up with me."

"Not when you are this tired, I don't. Take your coffee and promise me you will try to get some shut eye during down time today." He held the cup out to her, but withdrew it when she tried to take it without a word. "Promise me, Kate."

"I promise," she muttered. Snatching the coffee, she turned to the door and he hurried to follow.


	43. An Offering

**Recap: **_Our favorite pairs are on the scent of Benjamin Marcus, a drug dealer who they think their previous suspect is covering for. After getting stuck on finding him, Castle and Beckett take Booth and Brennan out for dinner, which is ended after Castle tries his hand at some manipulation to get Booth and Brennan in bed together. Successful, he takes Beckett back to his loft where things begin to heat up for them as well, but are interrupted by a call with news of their suspect's possible location. A very tired Beckett spends as much time as she can dawdling in the precinct before texting Booth the location of the surveillance team and heading over with Castle to wait for Marcus herself._

* * *

><p>Brennan woke up to a wonderful sensation—Booth's hand trailing from her thigh, up her side, and onto her shoulder. She shivered when his fingers drifted into the hollow made by her collar bone and, sighing lightly, sank into the mattress just a little deeper. She opened her eyes to look at him and found that his eyes were closed. His hand drifted back and forth as though he had memorized every curve of her body. Glancing over him, she saw it was after four in the morning, and she wondered what had woken him. "Booth? Everything alright?"<p>

"Hmm?" he mumbled. His eyes opened finally and his hand stopped its motion to rest on her waist.

"It's 4:11," she said.

He smiled at her sleepily, his eyes opening and closing slowly. "I don't know. I must have just drifted awake. I didn't mean to wake you, I just couldn't keep my hands off you." He smiled at her. "Anyway, I usually wake up at 4:30. I probably won't be able to fall back asleep."

"I usually wake up at 5:00, so I'm certain that I won't be able to fall asleep again either, despite that fact that I expended much more energy last night than I usually do and therefore would need to rest longer than usual to recover it." Booth's hands were drifting again, and she was losing her focus.

"You keep resting then," Booth told her, shifting over her. "I'll do all the work."

"That hardly seems fair."

"I usually run when I wake up in the morning, so I'll replace that physical activity with something else." His voice was low as he leaned in to kiss her.

"Your logic is sound," she mumbled as she dropped her arms to the mattress and let him have his way.

* * *

><p>Brennan had never had any use for sexual partners that weren't fulfilling. Sex was just a release. What was the point if she didn't get the release? As she let the hot water of the shower wash over her she knew that the boneless feeling and the pink in her cheeks was caused by that release. But the happiness that she felt tugging the corners of her lips up into a smile was not. Okay, perhaps part of it was from the release, but she knew—in her heart, of all places, an organ that she did not trust as a decision-making tool—that she would never think of sex as just a release ever again. In the short time she and Booth had been having intercourse, it had become clear to her that emotion <em>was<em> a part of it. He had never liked her calling it intercourse, and perhaps now she truly understood why. The term "making love" implied the emotion behind the act. She loved him, he loved her, and they made love together. It bonded them in a way that she had not experienced with any man. Ever.

She turned off the water and turned to open the glass shower door. Booth stood just inside the bathroom door as steam swirled around him. His boxers hung low on his hips as he reached for a towel to hand to her. "I was going to join you, but I got a text message from Detective Beckett during our last—round—and figured we shouldn't get distracted again. They're headed to Benjamin Marcus's place."

She dragged the towel down each limb to dry off, then wrapped it around herself snugly. "They found it?"

"They think so. Surveillance has been on it all night but he hasn't turned up yet. Beckett wanted to be there herself in case he dropped by."

"I'll get dressed. I'm done in here."

"Is there any hot water left?" he asked.

Her brain told her that of course there was. They were staying in a hotel after all, which needed to have enough hot water to supply all of their guests at any time necessary. But her gut told her that he was joking.

"You were in here for 25 minutes, Bones. That's a long shower for you. You look like a prune." He kissed her shoulder as she stepped up to the mirror. "You taste much better than a prune though."

"I must have lost track of time," she said as she tilted her head to the side to allow him to kiss up her neck. "And the hot water felt good—I may have overextended a few of my muscles last night." She was easily getting lost in the feel of him standing behind her with his lips climbing up to her earlobe.

Her phone chimed from the bedside table in the other room, and she felt him pause in his ministrations.

"Booth. Case. Shower." It may have been the most succinct she had ever been in her entire life.

His head snapped up. "Right. I really can't keep my hands off you."

"It was your lips this time. Your hands never touched me. And I'm not sure what you mean by that, when you certainly don't need to touch me in any way to get aroused. You also spend upwards of 75% of your day not touching me—though I suppose that percentage is lower now that you always have at least a hand on me when we sleep." She paused, trying to get her mind back on track. The case was more important right now. "I have to get dressed." She stripped off her towel and headed into the bedroom.

"And I need a cold shower," he replied. "Did you know that the number of cold showers I have had to take since we've been together has grown by 39%?"

She stopped tugging the camisole down her slightly damp skin. "That's an impressive number, Booth. How did you calculate it?"

"I had Sweets gather the data." His voice was slightly muffled by the shower.

"That doesn't seem like something you would share with Sweets." As she buttoned her blouse, she pondered how Sweets could have gathered the data at all. By the time she was finished dressing, she still hadn't come to a reasonable conclusion.

"63% of all statistics are made up." He was walking toward her with a towel wrapped around him.

Her mind had been so busy that she didn't hear the water stop running. "How could that possibly have been determined?"

A smile lit up his face and he began to laugh.

It took Brennan a moment longer that she liked to figure out why he was laughing. "You made up both of those statistics, didn't you?" she accused him. "I knew there was no way you would share that information with Sweets."

Her phone chimed from the bedside table. She padded around the bed barefoot and picked it up. She had missed two text messages from Rick. She read them aloud, hoping that Booth could translate.

"'_Hope you had a fun night._' Then a semicolon and an end parenthesis and, '_see you soon_.' And, '_Beckett didn't get much sleep and I think she is a little frustrated, so try not to be too glow-y around her when you get here. Consider bringing an offering._' An offering? I don't know what he means." She held her phone out to Booth, who was hopping his way into a pair of pants.

When he regained his balance, he took it from her. He rolled his eyes as he read. "He knew what we were doing, Bones. The semicolon and end parenthesis is a winking smiley face. That jerk played us at the bar."

"I don't understand. He knew we were making love?"

"Of course he did. He put his arm around you at the bar—yes, I know he wasn't hitting on you, but—and, well," he trailed off.

"His physical contact with me made your alpha male tendencies apply themselves to the situation. You wanted to claim me as your territory." Now she understood. Castle did always like to manipulate those around him. It was harmless, of course, but he was very good at it.

"Obviously I know you aren't my 'territory,' Bones, please don't be upset or anything." He sat next to her on the bed.

"I'm not upset. It's very much like Rick to do something like that. You having that conversation with Kate about sports kind of made me want to claim you as my territory."

"It did?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "There are similar territory tendencies among the alpha females, a group among which I count myself. What about the 'offering' he mentions?"

Booth looked back down at the phone. "He's implying that Beckett will be grumpy and won't appreciate the post-sex glow that you have going on."

Brennan opened her mouth to protest.

"You do, Bones. Trust me," he said, before she could say anything. "It's not a scientific term, so just go with me, okay? Anyway, he suggests bringing her something to balance out the difference in yours and Beckett's moods. Make sense?"

"What am I supposed to bring her? I could order a massage for her, but it's too early for a spa to be open. Likewise, the hotel gift shop is closed at this hour." Brennan pulled on socks and shoes.

Booth stood. "I'll handle this one, Bones. I know exactly what to get, and you'll say it is from you."

* * *

><p>Brennan grasped her offering to Beckett as she walked down the sidewalk next to Booth. She found herself resenting the apparent need to apologize for her time with Booth. Though it wasn't quite the nature of a worship offering, which did not apply in this social situation at all, she still found it unnecessary and a little—demeaning. Just because Rick and Kate weren't to the intercourse stage of their relationship didn't mean that she and Booth had to be sorry they were.<p>

Perhaps she was just upset that this case prevented them from going another round in the shower. On occasion, her sexual impulses had proved to be rather intense and there wasn't much her brain could do to overpower them when her body was overdosing on hormones.

She followed Booth up into a run-down apartment building, and waited patiently with him for someone to let them into the apartment the NYPD had taken for the night. When the door opened, she could tell not much had been going on. The energy in the room was very low, and everybody looked as though they had each consumed the maximum allowable dose of caffeine just to remain awake. At the smell of Brennan's offering, several people perked their heads up above computer monitors.

"Don't worry, guys," Booth said loudly enough for the all the current inhabitants of the one bedroom apartment to hear. "We brought enough for everybody." He held up a large pastry box and a container of coffee. There was a rumbling of excitement as he set it down on a makeshift table made of packing crates.

"Beckett and Castle are in the bedroom," someone said.

Brennan nodded her thanks and made her way around the crowd of officers and techs fighting over the donuts. She turned around the only corner she could find. Through the next doorway she could see Kate, headphones covering her ears, her head resting on her forearms in front of a computer monitor with four quadrants of surveillance footage playing live. Brennan knocked on the door frame, a politeness that she figured would be appreciated. Usually an open door meant that no invitation was needed, but a glance at the hallway leading to the bathroom indicated that there currently wasn't a door to close. It rested on its side, leaning up against the wall.

There was a rustle as Rick stood from an oversized chair in a corner of the room. He didn't make a sound as he tiptoed closer to her with his index finger pressed up to his lips. He guided her back into the common area of the apartment before speaking. "Sorry, but she finally fell asleep and I didn't want to wake her."

She held up the small bag and cup carrier. "You suggested I bring her an offering, which I must admit I feel rather ridiculous about as it is not my fault that you two are not yet copulating."

Based on the furrowing of his brow, she concluded this was a sore subject.

"Bear claw? There's also a chai tea latte for you." Maybe she was beginning to understand the concept of an offering after all.

"Thanks, Tempe. I haven't had chai in a long time."  
>"It's your favorite, though," she retorted, suddenly afraid she had done something wrong.<p>

"It is, I'm just more of a regular coffee guy these days. Working with the cops, you know how it is. Black coffee all the time. Even the espresso machine gets mostly used to make coffee cups full of espresso. But really, thank you. It'll be a nice treat." He took a sip gingerly.

It was a curious sight, Rick being cautious. The Rick that Tempe had met so long ago was not cautious at all. She was coming to the realization that he had changed since they had met and become friends, and she couldn't help but believe that it was Beckett who had inspired the change. Whether it was a good change still remained to be seen, but Brennan knew from experience that in the real world of crime, there was a fine line between confidence and cockiness. Despite Booth's ostentatious belt buckle, he seldom crossed that line—a trait sure to be admired in a federal agent. Rick's cockiness had surely taken a blow when he began to work with Beckett, and perhaps he was beginning to understand that he could be his confident, immature self without venturing too far over the line and getting hurt.

"So, what's in the bag?"

His question took her out of her analysis. "Oh, it was Booth's idea. Bear claws."

"A man who truly understands what another man means when he says 'bring an offering to a sexually frustrated homicide detective.'"

"Luckily, as I didn't know what your message meant."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Of course you didn't."

Brennan was about to hand over the bag when Castle froze. The look on his face could best be described as horror, she thought. Puzzled, she remained still and watched as he turned very slowly around, now looking as though he was bracing himself for a punch in the face.

"Sexually frustrated?" Beckett's voice rang out from the bedroom and she finally came into Brennan's view as Castle turned. Kate's index finger was extended, as was her arm. She must have just poked Castle in the back.

He snatched the bag and cup carrier from Brennan's hands and turned away from her to fully face his partner. "Beckett! You're awake! Could I interest you in a cup of coffee and a bear claw?" she heard Rick exclaim rather dramatically to Kate.

Suddenly, Brennan was being pulled away from the hallway and back into the main room. She turned as her momentum slowed to find Booth standing next to her.

"We should probably let them sort this one out," he said.

Brennan could hear snippets of an argument from the bedroom as she tried to direct her attention to the live surveillance feeds. There were more people walking down the street outside than when she and Booth had arrived. It was becoming time for the citizens of New York City to begin waking and getting to their daily business. As the traffic got more regular, the officers' jobs got harder.

"Esposito to base," she heard come through a wireless radio. "I'm heading south and am about to arrive at your location. Keep an eye on the guy behind me with the shirt and tie—I think he might be our guy."

All attention shifted to the monitors focused on the direction from which Esposito was arriving. He popped into the first screen moments later wearing plainclothes. All eyes were peeled as the next person came onscreen.

"We read you Esposito. That's our guy. Continue on your current route to our location and we'll bag him," an officer said quietly into a microphone. "Let's go people, we have visual on our suspect! Get suited up and ready to support the team in place at the suspect's apartment."

Booth pressed Brennan into a wall as a flurry of movement came over the apartment. She watched as Booth grabbed a bullet-proof vest from and officer and strapped it on. She felt a body hit the wall next to her and looked over to find Castle in the same position she was. Beckett raced into the melee while pulling her own weapon and strapping into a vest.

"Bones, stay here!" Booth shouted over the din and Beckett said the identical phrase to Rick. Then the agent and the officer were gone, leaving just the writer and the scientist behind with the remaining surveillance team.

Brennan looked over at Castle. "Is Kate mad at you?" she asked him.

He smiled. "Of course. I put my foot in my mouth—that's nothing new. The real question here is how was your night?" His eyebrows raised mischievously.

Brennan simply rolled her eyes at him and pushed off the wall to find a seat.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow. Long time coming, huh? Well, after some rather annoying health problems plagued me for most of September, I kind of fell off the wagon. Hadn't been to the site in quite some time. The first half of this chapter had been waiting patiently for me to finish it, but I just couldn't do it.<strong>

**Then this story started to get more hits. The hits were steady and it really surprised me. Then I got a whole bunch of reviews and man did it make me want to get back down to this. It was time for them to get Benjamin Marcus, and time for this story to start wrapping up.  
><strong>

**A sincere thank you to all who have read my story, and to those new readers who very recently have sent wonderful comments. I really appreciate it.  
><strong>


	44. Bruised

**I know, I know. I've been very bad. It's been so long since I updated this story that I actually went back and reread almost all of it myself. Think about doing that yourselves, dear readers. I'm sorry a million times over for making you all wait. But here you go.**

**-EweKnow**

* * *

><p>"Castle, stay here!" Beckett heard herself shout as she dashed for the door of the apartment her team was using for surveillance. She strapped a Kevlar vest on as she ran, taking a brief second to make sure it was tight against her chest but didn't restrain her breathing. She tapped her ankle to make sure her clutch piece was firmly in place, then drew her service weapon. "You good, Booth?" she asked the man jogging in the near darkness beside her.<p>

"Wish I had my FBI gear, but I'm good. You gonna lead the way in?"

"That's the plan," she replied.

"Good, I've got your back."

The team pulled up to a stop in front of her and she silently threaded her way to the front. She could feel Booth close behind. Esposito was strapping on a vest as quietly as he could, and he quickly briefed her. The suspect had entered the building and presumably returned to his apartment. A light had flickered on behind heavy curtains. He was there—she was sure of it.

She used hand signals to disperse the team appropriately, then entered the building behind the first two officers. She could feel the thud of her heart beat from her temples all the way down to her toes. She took the steps up to the third floor two at a time, but quietly. Her power heels had been ditched back at the precinct for a pair of much more comfortable sneakers. She thanked whatever power-that-be who was in charge of the noisy heat system running in the building. It covered any noise she or anyone else did make.

Then, suddenly, she was in front of his door. She paused to wipe the sweat from her palms onto her pants, then re-grip her weapon. With quick glances to Booth and Esposito, she nodded to the officer who was waiting with the battering ram in his hands.

The sound of wood splintering and breaking shattered the quiet. She moved in to the small apartment. A light was on in the kitchen, providing a subtle glow in the small living area. "Benjamin Marcus, this is the NYPD! Come out with your hands up!" she shouted. But he was nowhere to be seen. She could feel the stirring of officers fanning out behind her, checking behind doors and curtains for the suspect.

The slightest of sounds had her dashing for what she assumed was a bedroom door. She took aim quickly and kicked it open. She heard someone shout her name before a hand came out of the darkness and punched right into her cheekbone. She went down hard, her gun flipping out of her reach and out of sight.

Then he was on top of her. She fought back in the dark, giving as much as she was getting. She felt a fist blow into her knee, felt her own fist connect with a collar bone. Another hit to her face had her reeling, then she found an opening and drew a knee up—hard and fast. Hazy, but still alive and kicking, she watched as Booth and Esposito pulled Benjamin Marcus off her, took him down to the ground, and cuffed him securely.

"Beckett, what the hell? You don't go head first and solo into a dark room where a suspect is likely hiding! What were you thinking?" Esposito had one knee in the suspect's back while he yelled at her.

She winced. "Heat of the moment?" she offered up as an excuse. "Where's my gun?"

Booth crouched down near a corner of the room. When he stood back up he was holding it. "And not to add insult to injury, Beckett, but what is the first thing you learned in training?" he asked her.

She felt bullied, but knew they were right. "I know, I know, never let go of your weapon. I got it. And I still have my clutch piece, I just couldn't reach it while being punched in the face." She rolled onto her stomach and planted her hands on the carpet in front of her. She struggled to stand, but finally got there. But suddenly she was very warm, and there was a loud rushing sound all around her, in her. And then what she thought was just the darkness of a room with no lights on became even darker. She felt herself falling, and then nothing else.

* * *

><p>If she was dead, Kate Beckett wanted to know why it hurt so much. And why she felt so intensely like vomiting. And why the hell was heaven bouncing?<p>

"Beckett? What happened?" she heard a familiar voice shout. Even in a distant state, she could hear the utter panic in his tone.

"Castle." She tried to call him but heard it come out slurred.

"She's alright, Castle. Took a couple of hits from our suspect before she took him down. But she tried to get up too quickly and passed out."

That was Espo, she could make him out. When she tried to turn her head towards his voice, she realized she was strapped to a board, at an angle that could only be explained by paramedics carrying her down the stairs from Benjamin Marcus's apartment.

"Why is she strapped down like she got in a car accident?" Castle asked.

"It's procedure, Castle. I could have hurt her more if I had tried to pick her up and carry her down to the ambulance myself. They'll unstrap her once they get there. She'll be fine, just a little woozy and bruised."

"Kate?"

"Castle," she said again, this time it came out clearer.

"Shh, don't talk. Let them make sure you aren't hurt too bad first."

The bouncing stopped and she realized they had finally reached the sidewalk. She felt a warm hand slip into hers as Castle fell in line beside the paramedics. She could see the lights of the combined police and medical vehicles and promptly closed her eyes. Her entire head ached from the blow to her cheekbone and the bright flashes of red and blue were making it worse. The movement of the board stopped and she felt straps being undone around her.

"Detective Beckett, we're going to check out your head to make sure you don't have a concussion. Are you experiencing pain anywhere else?" The paramedic grabbed a clipboard and starting filling out the paperwork on it.

"The suspect got me in the cheekbone, the knee, the temple, and had a pretty good grip on my neck at one point."

"Are you experiencing pain in all of those areas?"

"Yes, but nothing too severe," she replied. As tough as she was, she knew that if she didn't get checked out fully and cleared, there was no way they would let her into an interrogation room with Marcus. She silently prayed that she didn't have a concussion.

She closed her eyes again and tightened her grip on Castle's hand as the paramedics began to assess her injuries. Soon enough she was being asked to sit up. She took it slow, and even the slow change in elevation made her vision hazy. But it cleared quickly and she met Castle's concerned gaze with determination. She was glad the nausea had passed. "I'm fine, Castle. Just need something to dull the pain and a couple of ice packs. I was stupid to rush into the bedroom alone, and I'm paying for it."

"Don't worry, so is he," Booth said from behind her. "We just loaded Marcus into a cruiser and Esposito and Ryan are taking him to the station for you. He is certainly taking his right to remain silent to heart—he hasn't said a word yet." He came into view, Brennan a few steps behind him. "You alright?" he asked her.

"Yeah. I'm good. I think Washington here is trying to pay me back for all the times I refused his treatment in the past," she said, nodding to the paramedic who was shining a bright flashlight in her eyes to test her pupil response once more.

"You've certainly never been this receptive to treatment," he said to her. "One time, Detective Beckett here almost froze to death, and when she woke up she took _my_ coat and a heat sheet before dashing off to check in with her partners."

"Yeah, well, you'd be pissed if someone had locked you in a freezer container and drove off with a bomb to be detonated in the heart of the city." But she smiled. "And I gave the coat back."

"Oh yeah, the freezer" Castle said, smiling. "Ah, memories."

Beckett rolled her eyes.

"Well, anyway," Booth began. "We found quite a stash in the apartment, but nothing more than your average dealer. The whole unit is being combed for anything we can use against this guy. Weapons, blood, you know the drill."

"Good." She turned to the paramedic. "Concussion or not?"

"Not," he replied. "But this bruising isn't going to be fun, and you're going to have a raspy voice and an aching face for a few days. Ice and Tylenol, detective." He wrote down a couple more notes on his clipboard, and handed to it her.

She signed it and gingerly stood from the gurney. With a hand on Castle's shoulder, she flexed her knee slowly to assess the strain, then moved her neck front to back and side to side. Sore, yes, but not unbearable. She took a small packet of pills and a bottle of water from Washington, and waved to him in thanks. He pushed the gurney back into place in the ambulance and went about his business.

"Here," Castle said, taking the bottle and packet from her, opening both, and handing them back to her one at a time. She thought she saw his hands shake a little, but that was probably her vision.

"That was hardly the best advice," Brennan stated as Beckett downed the pills and half of the water bottle. "Elevation is quite key in reducing swelling and bruising, and he could have mentioned the uses of a topical Arnica gel in reducing bruising as well. You should ice for 15-30 minutes every hour, and then try a warm soak with Epsom salts if you experience limited mobility in your knee joint. And while an acetaminophen based pain relief medication can help—"

"Bones, we got it." Booth shook his head at her when she began to speak again. "Beckett's a cop. She knows her limitations, and she knows how to deal with a couple of bumps and bruises."

Brennan nodded, but Beckett was interested to see what looked like concern etched into the doctor's features.

"Let's get back to the station," Beckett said, sick of the focus being on her. "I want to break Marcus as soon as possible. You guys need a lift?" she asked Booth and Brennan.

"No, we're good. Agent Denton, my FBI narco contact already offered," Booth said. "We'll see you back there in a bit."

Beckett nodded before making her way slowly down the street and around the corner to where her cruiser was parked. Castle trailed behind her on the deserted sidewalk, being oddly quiet. She could feel his eyes on her. She pulled the keys from her pocket and climbed in the car, Castle following suit. But when she raised the keys to the ignition, Rick caught her wrist. With his other hand, he reached over and turned her face to his with a gentle tug on her chin. His fingers ghosted over the already bruised skin of her temple, cheek, and neck. She closed her eyes and felt him scoot closer to her.

He pressed his forehead to her unbruised temple and exhaled. "That really scared me, Kate. I thought you got shot or something when they brought you down on that board."

"I'm sorry," she replied. It was all she could think to say. "I'll be okay."

"I know. It's just—with all the—well, relationship progress lately—I just," he fumbled so inelegantly over his words that she could tell he was more shaky than he was showing.

She did two things that immediately came to mind as an apology for having to make him worry about her. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his softly. When she pulled back, she grabbed his hand. Placing the car keys in it, she said, "I'm not sure if my knee is quite steady enough for driving. Maybe you should drive us back to the precinct."

His eyes lit up as though she had told him that Bigfoot was real. And she knew that fear for her life was no longer the main thing on his mind.

"But!" she said loudly, holding up a hand. "You may not run any red lights, and you may not use the siren."

And then he looked like she had told him Christmas was cancelled. Perfect.


End file.
